The Pachirisu of the Ring
by DragonBlade152
Summary: Morgan was living a pretty normal life...until she got sucked into the Lord of the Rings Universe and turned into a Pachirisu as well. Can she manage to help destroy the Ring, or will her ADHD get the better of her?
1. Prologue

Now, for the weirdness you've all been dreading: a Pokemon-Lord of the Rings crossover! OK, it's probably not as weird as some of the stuff out there, but still...

Just a warning. This is based mostly on the books (because it's easier to look at the books rather than watch the movies a million and two times) so if you haven't read the books, it might get a little confusing. You have been warned.

Anyway, I don't own anything, more's the pity, so on with the story!

...

It was a bad idea. Of course, at the time Morgan didn't know it was a bad idea. She had done such stuff before. What was so bad about playing Pokémon Diamond while listening to the Lord of the Rings being read on a CD? She had already read the books, so she didn't have to pay as much attention. That was a good thing. Morgan had major ADHD, so she had a hard time paying attention to much of anything. She had just caught a Pachirisu at the Valley Windworks when a strange sensation came over her, almost like a tug. She looked up, but nothing seemed out of place, so she shrugged it off. It came again, stronger than before. Her vision started going funny, almost like she was looking down a tunnel.

"What the..."

Suddenly everything seemed to drop out from under her. Morgan screamed as she fell. She felt like she was being crushed, suffocated. Then she blacked out.


	2. A Very Unexpected Surprise

"What is that?"

"It looks like a squirrel."

"I have never seen a squirrel that large, or with such strange coloring."

Morgan opened her eyes. Nine people were staring at her like she was some sort of freak. One of them appeared quite old, with a long gray beard and tall pointed hat. Three of them had facial hair of some sort, and one of those seemed shorter than the others. Another was fair-haired and clean-shaven, but seemed older somehow. The other four were also clean-shaven, but seemed young, especially since they were short compared to the others. What was really strange was that they all seemed ridiculously tall, even the short ones.

"Where am I and who are you guys?"

Everyone jumped back. "It can talk!" One of the short ones said.

"Of course I can talk! And I'm a she, not an it. My name's Morgan."

"What are you? I've never seen a talking squirrel before."

"Talking squirrel? What are you..."

Morgan started to stand up. As she did so, she looked down at herself. Rather than her normal body, she saw something white and furry. She looked at her hands. They were also white and looked more like paws than hands. With a large amount of trepidation she looked behind her. A huge white bushy tail met her sight. A light blue stripe ran along the top, with three spikes, or what looked like spikes, sticking out.

"Holy freaking crud I'm a Pachirisu!" she screamed. Everyone else jumped again and pointed their various weapons at her. With a few deep breaths she managed to calm herself down. "Well, I guess this would explain why everyone looks so tall. Say, you still haven't told me where I am or who you guys are."

"This is Hollin." One of the men answered warily.

"Hollin? Oh wait, that seems familiar. Hold on a sec. Hollin, Hollin..." then it clicked. "Holy crud I'm in Middle Earth! Wait, if I'm in Middle Earth, then..." She took a closer look at the ring of people surrounding her. While they didn't look like the characters in the movies, they definitely bore a resemblance. She turned to the old man first, then to the others in turn. "You must be Gandalf, and you're Gimli, and you're Legolas. One of you two is Aragorn, and the other has to be Boromir...wait, you're Aragorn, and you're Boromir. You guys are hobbits." She caught the glint of a chain around one of their necks. "You must be Frodo. That means that you're Sam. You look younger than the other guy, so you have to be Pippin. That means you're Merry. Am I right?"

They stared at her, mouths agape. Aragorn was the first to recover.

"Who are you? Are you a servant of Sauron?"

"I told you, my name's Morgan. No, I'm not a servant of Sauron. I'd rather gouge out my own eyes than serve a creep like him. I guess this means I'm right?"

Gandalf eyed her with amusement. "Yes, you are indeed right. Tell me, how could you possibly know the names of everyone in the company?"

Morgan thought for a second. Telling them that she had read the books didn't really seem like a good idea, and they wouldn't believe her anyway. Nothing else came to mind. "I would if I could, but I can't, so I won't."

"And why is that?"

"Well, um, first you wouldn't believe me, and second, I don't really know if I believe it either, and, um, it gets really complicated."

"Enough prattle." Gimli growled, "The sun's down. We need to be moving. What do we do with this...thing?"

"Let's get this straight. I'm a Pachirisu, OK? As to what to do with me, could I travel with you guys? Since I really don't know exactly where I am or how I got here going with you seems like the best option right now."

Gandalf fixed her with a serious stare. "Do you know what we must do?"

"Yep." her voice dropped to barely a whisper, "Frodo here is carrying the One Ring and needs to toss it into Mt. Doom over in Mordor. The rest of you are going at least partway with him to make sure it gets done and that Sauron doesn't get it."

Aragorn frowned, then sheathed his sword. "Perhaps it would be wiser to have you accompany us, lest you fall into the wrong hands."

One by one, the others followed suit. Though everyone looked uncomfortable, no one objected. Morgan beamed.

"Great! I promise I won't try to make any trouble, though my dad says that I make it whether I want to or not. Who knows? I may even be able to help you."

"Perhaps." Gandalf said. They started off. Morgan managed to jump onto Bill, the pony they were currently using as a packhorse, who didn't seem to mind in the least. After a little while Morgan became board. She knew that talking was a bad idea, since she had heard someone mention crebain, big crows that acted as spies for Saruman. So she hopped off in order to get used to her new body. She had to run sometimes to keep up with the others, but that didn't tire her out as much as she thought it would. Pachirisu were fast, she knew, but she didn't know much else. Could she use an electric attack? Now would probably be a bad time to try to find out. When she got tired, she hopped back on Bill. Everyone else seemed to ignore her. Alright, then. She wouldn't mention the fact that there was going to be a whole lot of snow on Caradhras. Maybe, though, she would be able to prevent Gandalf from dying in Moria. No, that wouldn't be a good idea. Then he wouldn't become Gandalf the White. But maybe she could stop Boromir from dying, and some other people as well. Maybe that's why she was here.

When the sky began to get light they stopped. Sam dug some food out of the packs and passed it around. When he got to Morgan he stopped.

"Um...what do you Pachirisu eat?"

Morgan shrugged. "Whatever you guys eat. I don't think I'd need that much, though." In reality, she didn't have a clue what Pachirisu ate, but she was sure that, considering their size, they didn't eat nearly as much as humans did. Sam gave her part of a loaf of traveler's bread, and Morgan devoured it. She wasn't usually a picky eater, and she was ravenous after a night of traveling. Sam must have been a good judge of such things, because it was the perfect amount. Compared to what the others ate, it really wasn't that much, either. At least she wouldn't put a major dent in their food stock. When everyone had eaten, Aragorn motioned for her to follow him. They went a little ways apart from the others. Aragorn looked down sternly at her.

"Where do you come from?"

Morgan paused for a moment while trying to come up with an answer that wouldn't make her seem like she was insane. "A place called Fair View. It's really really far away."

"How did you get here?"

"I really have no idea. I was just minding my own business when everything went weird and I blacked out. When I woke up you were all staring at me."

"Are there many of your kind in this Fair View?"

"Nope. Not many at all."

"How do you know about us?"

"I told you, I would tell you if I could, but I can't."

"And why is that?"

"It's really complicated, but let's just say you wouldn't believe me even if I could tell you."

Aragorn stared at her for several long moments, as if trying to decide if she was telling the truth. "Perhaps, perhaps not. How exactly do you think you could help us?"

"Well, I'm fast, and I can get into tight spaces easily, and I can maybe shoot elec...lightning if I try."

"Lightning? Then you are a creature of magic?"

"Um, you could say that. I don't really know if I can, though. I've never tried."

Once again Aragorn stared at her, his face unreadable. Morgan met his eyes. They seemed...not old, really. More experienced, with a sort of power behind them. That kind of made sense, since he was the rightful king of Gondor and all that. Finally, he nodded.

"I sense no guile in you. Just do not make a nuisance of yourself."

Morgan saluted. "Yes, sir!" she said before scampering back to camp. The others, mainly the hobbits, also had questions for her, which she answered in her usual cheerful, hyperactive manner, all the while phrasing it so that she didn't reveal too much. She got along quite well with the hobbits, especially Pippin. Boromir seemed interested, but much more distant. Since Morgan knew what was probably going to happen to him, she didn't really try to get any closer. Legolas acted indifferent, and Gimli obviously thought her annoying. That was fine with Morgan. She would have been worried of no one found her annoying. Aragorn had been talking to Gandalf in a low voice and was now watching her with his usual unreadable expression. Gandalf seemed to regard her with amusement, though there was definitely a deeper interest there. It probably had something to do with the whole shooting lightning thing. That didn't really bug Morgan, either. At least no one was looking at her like she was a freak anymore.

After a few minutes everyone began rolling up in their blankets. Morgan, since she had ridden on Bill and wasn't as exhausted as the others, offered to share the first watch. This was probably a good idea. She was tired, which meant she wasn't quite as hyperactive and able to sit still longer. Legolas was also on first watch, so she didn't have any incentive to talk. Of course, that didn't mean that she paid real great attention, either. Her attention darted from one thing to another, never staying focused on one thing long enough to determine if something was wrong. Luckily nothing happened during her watch. Legolas went to wake the next watch while Morgan curled up, her head underneath her tail, and quickly fell asleep.

That evening everyone was woken up. Gandalf told them that they were going over Caradhras and that there may be snow. Morgan, her energy completely restored, didn't pay very much attention. She already knew what was going to happen. Boromir suggested that everyone take the biggest piece of firewood that they could carry.

"Very well, but we must not use it unless it is a choice between a fire and death." Gandalf said.

Since Bill was obviously going to carry firewood as well, Morgan chose to walk rather than overburden the pony. She also carried a large stick, though it wouldn't last very long. They started up. The way was fairly easy at first, but grew steep and winding as they went on. To make things worse, it was pitch-black and there was a bitter wind. Morgan trudged behind Frodo, wishing that she had been turned into something with longer legs. Around midnight they came to a place where the path ran between sheer cliff walls on one side and a deep ravine on the other. She was now near the rear of the group and unsure if she could make it. Ahead, Frodo suddenly stumbled and fell, rolling perilously close to the ravine before being able to stop himself. He got up quickly, then felt around his neck.

"It's gone!"

"The Ring? You lost the Ring?" Morgan cried, panic-stricken. This hadn't happened in the book. Everyone gathered at the edge of the ravine and peered down in hope of seeing it.

"There it is." Legolas pointed. Morgan looked where he pointed and saw the faint gleam of gold in a fissure that was located in a ledge not too far down. Getting to the ledge didn't look too difficult, but the fissure was too deep and narrow for even a hobbit to get to.

"I don't suppose anyone brought rope?" Morgan asked in an off-hand way. She knew the answer, and also what the solution was. Without waiting for a reply she dropped her stick and began climbing down the side of the ravine. There was no wind down there, and Morgan made it to the ledge without difficulty. Funny how her tail helped her to balance so much. The fissure was much more difficult. The sides were sheer, with few handholds. She came close to falling several times before reaching the bottom, where the Ring lay. It looked beautiful, even in the Stygian gloom.

"Ha, I know all your dirty little tricks, devil Ring." Morgan muttered as she tied the chain to her tail and began the climb upwards. The Ring was heavier than it should have been and slowed her down considerably. She got out of the fissure only to find that the wind had changed and was now blowing through the ravine. Her tail now changed from a help to a hindrance as the wind caught it and dragged Morgan off balance. After muttering a few choice words she managed to make it back to the path, where she lay panting for a few moments before untying the chain from her tail and holding it out to Frodo.

"Thank you." He said as he slipped the chain around his neck.

"No problem. Just try not to let it happen again, 'cause I really don't like the idea of almost falling a gazillion times again."

"Perhaps you do have your uses after all." Aragorn said quietly.

"I just hope I have more than one, 'cause that wasn't fun at all." Morgan stood and picked up her stick. They continued on. Snow began to fall, lightly at first, then much heavier. Soon Morgan could barely make out the people in front of her. It grew deep, and she was soon resorting to hopping in the footsteps of the others. At least her fur kept her from freezing to death. Yet. Gandalf stopped.

"This is what I feared. What do you say now, Aragorn?"

"I feared it as well, but less than other things." Aragorn replied, "I knew there would be a chance of snow, though it rarely falls so heavily this far south, and as far down as this."

"I wonder if the Enemy caused this." Boromir interjected, "They say he can cause storms on the Mountains of Shadow."

Gimli frowned. "His arm has grown long if he can bring snow here, this far away."

"His arm has grown long." Gandalf said grimly. Morgan noticed that the storm had slackened off. When they started moving, however, it came back worse than before. Everyone was struggling. Morgan was forced to jump onto Bill's back when the snow became too deep. The company suddenly stopped. There were strange noises in the wind that sounded like voices howling and laughing, causing Morgan to shudder.

"There are fell voices on the air," Boromir said, "We cannot go further tonight."

They huddled at the base of the cliff, finding little protection as the wind eddied around from every side. Bill stood in front of the hobbits, screening them a little. Morgan watched as Frodo's eyes began closing and curled up on his feet. They felt like ice, but since hobbits had thick hair that grew on the tops of their feet, it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

"But I wanted to rest and sleep, Bilbo." Frodo murmured. Morgan's head jerked up in alarm as Boromir picked him up out of a nest of snow.

"This will be the deaths of the halflings, Gandalf." he said, "What about a fire? Doubtless we will be hidden from unfriendly eyes when the snow has covered us, but that will not help us much."

"Light a fire if you can." replied Gandalf, "If any spies of the Enemy can go about in this storm, then they can see us, fire or no."

The piled some wood, but the wind and wet fuel made it impossible for even Legolas or Gimli to light it. Morgan was just wondering if she could use her electricity to light it when Gandalf thrust his staff in the middle of the wood and said some strange words. A green and blue flame spouted, and the wood caught fire.

"If any can see I am reveled to them." he said, "I have written Gandalf is here in signs that can be read from Rivendell to the mouths of Anduin."

"Like anyone could see it with all this snow." Morgan muttered as she curled up as close to the fire as she could get without getting her fur singed off. Everyone else gathered around the fire, ignoring the slush that was beginning to creep under their feet. Finally the last piece of wood was thrown on.

"Dawn is near." Aragorn said.

Morgan looked out at the blackness that surrounded them. "I think the snow isn't coming down as bad."

Sure enough, the snow was lessening, as was the wind. Soon it quit all together. The light grew brighter, revealing a white world. The snow was higher than the hobbits, and in places it was piled into tall drifts. Above them the clouds were a stormy gray.

"Caradhras has yet more snow to fling at us. We had better get off quickly." Gimli said.

"That might be easier said than done." Morgan muttered as she looked at the wall of snow only a few feet from the ashes of their fire. Without warning she jumped onto Bill's back and from there onto the snow. She didn't sink into it, like she had been afraid of, but was able to scamper lightly over it. The others looked at each other in confusion, except Legolas. He leaped onto the snow and took off after her.

"And where might you be going?" he asked Morgan when he caught up with her.

"I'm seeing where the snow ends." she replied, "If I remember all right, the snow started getting bad right around that corner." Without further adieu she scampered off. Around the corner she had indicated was a massive snow drift. Past that, the snow quickly dwindled until it barely covered the ground. "See? Now all we have to do is get everybody over to here."

"Indeed." Legolas laughed, "Perhaps Bill will sprout wings and be able to carry them."

Back where the others were, Morgan proceeded to explain that the snow ended just around the bend. "I'm not sure how we're going to get everyone there, though."

"Well, when heads are at a loss bodies must serve, as we say in my country." Boromir said, "Perhaps we could force our way through, Aragorn and I."

He began forcing his way through the snow, with Aragorn following and widening the path. They looked like they were swimming.

"I will go and tell them how much farther they have to go." Legolas said before taking off on top of the snow again. Morgan's mind wandered to yesterday's event, when Frodo had dropped the Ring. That hadn't happened in the book or the movie. So, why did it happen? Something like that would have for sure been mentioned in the book, unless her little adventure wasn't following the book exactly. Perhaps it was because she was there. Maybe her presence was messing things up, like in Explorers of Sky. So, assuming it had something to do with time, and assuming time worked like a rubber band, it was possible that her merely being here was stretching time out of whack and distorting it. If that was the case, then things that did not happen in the book might happen and vice versa, and she would never know when to expect it or what might happen.

"Curse you rubber band of time!" she blurted suddenly. Everyone jumped and stared at her.

"What?" Gandalf asked.

Morgan opened her mouth to explain her theory of how time worked, then decided that the concept of the fourth dimension might not fly very well. "Never mind."

They continued to wait. Morgan noticed that Pippin was shivering a little, jumped onto his shoulder, and curled up around his neck like a furry white-and-blue scarf. He looked momentarily surprised, then smiled a little. They waited about and hour before the Men came back.

"Lesser men with spades might have served you better, but we have thrust a lane through." Boromir said when they reached the rest of the group.

"But how are we going to get down there?" Pippin asked, while the other hobbits nodded.

"I am weary, but I still have some strength left, Aragorn too. We will carry the little folk." Without further adieu he lifted Pippin and set him on his back before moving down the narrow path. Morgan went beside them, marveling at Boromir's and Aragorn's strength. At last they came through the big drift. Boromir set Pippin down and Aragorn did the same with Merry. They waited as the Men went back. Soon Boromir came into view, carrying Sam. Gandalf came next, leading Bill with Gimli perched among the baggage. Last came Aragorn with Frodo. Aragorn had no sooner set him down when a rumbling sound started. Snow and boulders came crashing down, obliterating the path behind them.

"Alright, alright already! We're leaving!" Morgan shouted. The avalanche stooped and the clouds cleared, showing that Caradhras was satisfied. They made it down to where the snow had first come. As Morgan looked at the foothills, she saw small dark things flying around. "Are those birds?"

"They are." Aragorn replied grimly.

"That cannot be helped now. We will not wait for another nightfall on even the knees of Caradhras!" Gandalf said as he led them back down. Even Morgan couldn't help but notice the gloomy mood from Bill's back. Caradhras had defeated them.


	3. Into the Darkness

That evening they stopped. Morgan ate her small portion and curled up, half-listening as the others talked about where to go next. She couldn't help but shiver a little when Gandalf mentioned Moria. It seemed so much more sinister out here in the wild than at home snuggled up under her blankets. The cold wind sounded louder. Morgan's head jerked up, ears twitching.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked. Morgan motioned for him to be quiet.

"Wolves. Big ones." she suppressed a shudder. There was something about being small and furry that made wolves seem much more dangerous. After a while even Gimli could hear the howling.

"Wargs!" Aragorn leaped to his feet, "Wargs have come west of the mountains!"

Morgan hopped on Bill and stroked his neck. The poor pony was beginning to tremble slightly. The company climbed to the top of the hill they had been sheltering under. A ring of trees and boulders topped it. They built a fire and set a watch. Morgan was the only one that slept even remotely well. The night was old when she was woken up by a storm of howls. Without warning gray shapes began leaping over the ring of stones.

"Fling more fuel onto the fire!" Gandalf called, "Then stand back to back!"

Wood was quickly added to the fire and everyone drew their blades as the gray shapes advanced, then attacked. Morgan looked around, unsure of what to do. Everyone else was already fighting. A huge form leaped at her. With a terrified shriek she let loose a blast of electricity. The wolf fell to the ground, fur smoking. After a second Morgan looked up.

"Hey, it actually worked!"

Gandalf said some strange words and the trees around them burst into flame. Legolas' last arrow caught fire as it flew, hitting a large wolf. Unexpectedly, an even larger wolf burst from the flames, heading straight towards him. It was about to leap on him and rip him to pieces when a brilliant flash encompassed the wolf. It fell to the ground, dead. The rest of the Wargs howled and fled. Everyone turned in surprise to Morgan, who looked rather pleased with herself.

"You really can use lightning." Aragorn's eyebrows were halfway to his hairline.

"Told you so." Morgan said smugly.

When morning finally came there were no bodies. Only the burned trees and Legolas' arrows showed that there had been any fight at all. They ate quickly and headed south. Morgan hopped onto Bill and curled up. Legolas had seemed to show a little more respect that morning than usual. Maybe it was because she had saved him. She didn't really think about it too much. Using her first electric attack had taken up more energy than she thought it would have, so she buried her head under her tail and went to sleep.

It was getting late when they finally found the way that led to the Walls of Moria. A huge black lake stretched out in front of it, reflecting none of the setting sun's rays. They found a narrow path that ran by the lake's north edge and followed it, soon coming to a stagnant creek.

"That looks rather unpleasant." Morgan muttered as Gimli waded across. It only came up to his ankles, but the footing seemed treacherous. Finally, everyone made it across. There was a soft swish and a plop, like a fish had disturbed the surface of the water. They turned and saw ripples coming from a point far out in the lake. Morgan gulped, but didn't say anything.

The moon had risen when they came to two gigantic holly trees. Morgan was looking at them in awe when she heard Sam say, "You can't just send him off, not with wolves and the like around!"

While Gandalf was reasoning with Sam about letting Bill go, Morgan jumped onto a branch. She'd miss Bill as well, though her reason was a little more selfish. How else was she going to keep up with everyone else? Gandalf proceeded to run his hands over the cliff face between the trees. Silvery lines appeared, forming a great arch with writing. Below that was a crown and a hammer and anvil. Below those were two trees bearing crescent moons, as well as a star.

"So, um, what does it say?" she asked as she hopped down beside Gandalf.

"'The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter.' Underneath is written, 'I, Narvi, made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs.'"

"Oh yeah, I remember this part! It's...um...uh...give me a little bit."

With that Morgan jumped back into the tree and curled up, thinking. It was a riddle, that much she remembered. But why couldn't she remember the answer? It didn't make sense. She remembered everything else that went on in the books. Below, everyone was divvying up Bill's load while Gandalf was muttering words under his breath. Wolves began howling in the distance, and Bill began shivering. Sam began comforting him and whispering in his ear.

"Don't let him stray too far." Boromir said, "We may need him yet. How I hate this foul pool!" he picked up a rock and hurled it into the lake. Large ripples formed out beyond where the stone had fallen, moving towards them.

"I remember now!" Morgan jumped down and climbed onto Gandalf's shoulder. "What's the Elvish word for friend?"

"Mellon."

Cracks appeared in the wall, forming the outline of double doors. They swung open, revealing a dark passageway with stairs going up. Morgan looked satisfied as she hopped down and went towards everyone else. "OK, doors are open. Let's get moving."

Several things happened right then. A snake-like tentacle shot out of the water and wrapped around Morgan, who screamed. Several more tentacles erupted out of the water. Bill gave a wild neigh of fear and took off. Sam started after him, but heard Frodo shout and ran back. Morgan, scared out of her wits, let loose a large blast of electricity, stunning the creature. It let go of her and she fell, screaming, right into Aragorn's arms.

"Thanks."

Any further conversation was stopped as they ran into the darkness of Moria. The Watcher had recovered enough to slam the doors closed, cutting off all light. There was a loud crashing, which Morgan guessed was the trees being ripped up and thrown against the door. Sure enough, she heard Gandalf go down the stars and hit his staff against the doors.

"Guess we're not going out that way." she said, trembling a little in Aragorn's arms. The Watcher was supposed to grab Frodo, not her!

"The only way out is on the other side of the mountain." Gandalf said, "I will lead you there. Follow my staff."

A faint glow began coming from the top of Gandalf's staff, and they started up the stairs.

"Ride on my shoulder." Aragorn said, "Your sharp ears may be of use."

Morgan obliged, balancing easily on his shoulder as they climbed the stairs. At the top, they stopped and ate. Morgan stared into the blackness behind them. Didn't Gollum follow the company through Moria? Or was that only in the movie? No, there was something like that in the book. But was that around here or later on? With a little sigh of frustration, Morgan went back to the others. With any luck Gollum wouldn't bother them. Unless it turned out like the Watcher, and the wolves, and Frodo dropping the Ring...

They started out again. There were many tunnels that branched off, and wells and crevices that they had to be careful not to fall into. Aragorn walked in the back, and the only thing visible was Gandalf's staff, bobbing ahead like a will-o'-the-wisp. There wasn't much to distract Morgan, so she was able to listen better. They stopped often while Gandalf and Gimli discussed which way to go, and she strained her ears to detect any unusual sound. After a while she thought she could hear the soft patter of feet behind them. It might have been an echo, had it not continued for several seconds each time they stopped. One time Morgan glanced behind her and saw two things, like eyes, reflecting the faint light from Gandalf's staff. She gasped, and Aragorn turned around, but the eyes had disappeared.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked. Morgan took a couple of deep breaths.

"Nothing. Just my imagination."

Morgan didn't look back any more, but she could still hear the footsteps behind them. They reached a small room with three different passageways. The left went down, the middle went straight and level but narrow, and the right went up.

"I have no memory of this place." Gandalf said.

"This could be a problem." Morgan muttered to herself. Which way did they go in the book? Was it the right one? But in the movie, hadn't they gone down?

"I am too weary to decide." Gandalf was saying, "And I expect you all are as well. We had better halt here and rest."

"Poor Bill." Sam muttered, "I wonder if he's all right."

Morgan hopped from Aragorn's shoulder to Sam's.

"Don't worry, I'm sure he's fine."

"Why do you say that?" Sam asked, surprised.

"Just a feeling. And besides, Bill's the smartest pony I've ever known, and he should be able to take care of himself."

Just left of the left-hand passage there was a door, which swung open easily when pushed. Merry and Pippin started for it eagerly, ready for a place to rest, but Gandalf stopped them.

"Steady! We do not know what is inside. I will go first."

The room was large. In the middle was a hole, with rusty chains and pieces of stone around it.

"There, you might have fallen into that and still be wondering when you would hit the bottom." Aragorn said, pointing to the hole, "Let the guide go first while you still have one."

Morgan's ears twitched when she heard this, but she said nothing. While the others were unrolling their blankets, Pippin crept towards the hole. Morgan noticed him as he picked up a piece of stone.

"No, don't..."

He dropped it into the hole.

"Do that." Morgan finished. After many heartbeats they heard a soft _plunk_, like the stone had hit deep water and the tunnel had magnified the sound.

"What was that?" Gandalf demanded. Morgan pointed to Pippin, who confessed. Gandalf's face was stormy.

"Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity! This is a serious journey. Now be quiet!"

There was no sound for a few minutes, then they heard faintly, _tom-tap, tom-tap,_ like signals of some sort. When the echos faded away, they were repeated.

"That was the sound of a hammer, or I have never heard one." Gimli said.

"Yes, and I do not like it." Gandalf said, "It might have nothing to do with Pippin's stone, though I doubt we are so lucky. You, Pippin, can have the first watch as your reward!"

With that Gandalf rolled himself in his blanket. Morgan hopped onto Pippin's shoulder.

"Don't worry," she whispered, "I'll watch with you. I should have stopped you sooner."

Pippin gave her a wan smile as everyone rolled up in their blankets and went to sleep. Morgan was pleased to notice that he stayed far away from the hole. After an hour Gandalf got up and came over quietly.

"I cannot sleep, so I might as well do the watching. Get some rest."

Pippin willingly obliged, curling up in the corner farthest from the hole he could find. Morgan was about ready to do the same when Gandalf stopped her.

"Come with me." he said softly. Confused, Morgan followed him out of the room. "Which way do you think we should go?"

"What? Why are you asking me?" Morgan asked, confused.

Gandalf said nothing, merely watched her. After a moment's hesitation she went the the left passage, sniffed, and shook her head. It smelled foul down there. The middle passage didn't smell as bad, but just looking at it gave her the shivers for some odd reason. The right one didn't feel wrong like the middle one, and didn't smell wrong like the left one. Finally she went back to Gandalf.

"I'm thinking the right one."

Gandalf nodded and motioned for her to go back inside the room. Morgan found a spot near the wall, curled up, and went to sleep, too tired to wonder why Gandalf had asked her which way to go.

After six hours Gandalf woke them up. He had stayed awake the entire time, trying to recall every bit of his last journey here.

"We will take the right one." he said, with a small nod to Morgan. She gave him a thumbs-up before resuming her perch on Aragorn's shoulder. They started up. The passage seemed to get larger as they went on, and there were no more holes or crevices to fall into. The way eventually evened out, becoming smooth and level. They had walked for a long time when the walls suddenly vanished. The air was cold on their faces, and Morgan had the feeling that the place was huge and empty. Gandalf seemed pleased.

"This is the right way. I believe we are not too far from the Dimrill Gate, unless I am mistaken. I will risk a little more light."

The glow from the top of his staff intensified. The shadows fled, and they could make out a huge hall with massive pillars supporting the roof. The walls glittered, and they could see a passageway on the other end of the hall and to either side. Then the light went out.

"There used to be windows in the upper halls, with shafts leading to the surface. I think we have reached them now, but it is night, so we will not know for certain until morning. We had better go no further. Let us rest, if we can."

The company huddled together in a corner of the great hall, trying to avoid the draft that flowed through it. The last thing Morgan heard before she drifted off sounded like Gimli chanting. Then she was out like a light.

Frodo was on watch, and had been for nearly two hours. Where he guessed the western arch to be, he saw two pale points of light, like luminous eyes. He started, and the lights disappeared. Frodo was about to dismiss them as a dream when a soft voice behind him said,

"You saw them too, didn't you?"

"What?" he turned around and jumped a little when Morgan hopped onto his shoulder.

"Those eyes. That's the second time I've seen them."

"What do you think they belong to?"

Morgan was about to say Gollum, then thought better of it. "I don't know, but if it hasn't hurt us yet, I don't think it's going to."

Morgan stayed up with Frodo for the rest of his watch. They went to sleep after Legolas relieved them and woke to a dim light coming from a shaft above the eastern door. Another light came through the northern door. Morgan almost jumped for joy. It was sunlight!

"Good morning." Gandalf said, "I was right, you see. We are high on the east side of Moria. Before the end of the day we should be out."

"I am glad." Gimli said, "I have seen Moria, but it has become dark and dreadful. I doubt Balin ever came here."

After breakfast Morgan asked, "Which way do we go? East?"

"Perhaps." Gandalf answered, "I guess we are above and to the north of the gate, and finding the way down will be difficult. The east arch is the most likely, but perhaps it would be wiser to take a look about us. Let us go towards the light coming from the northern arch."

The light in question came from a room not far from the hall. The stone door was half open, and the room itself was dimly lit, but it seemed bright after the long hours of darkness. There was a lot of dust on the floor, and they stumbled over things they couldn't make out yet as they entered the room. The light fell on a large slab, about two feet high, that was covered with a flat white stone. Runes were carved in the stone. Morgan hopped onto it and looked at them, but couldn't read them.

"Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria." Gandalf read solemnly. Gimli cast his hood over his face in mourning.

"Is that a book?" Morgan said after a few moments, pointing to something sticking out of a broken chest. Gandalf gently took it and began deciphering the runes. While he was doing that Morgan began looking around. The things they had stumbled over were dead bodies. A shiver ran up her spine. They were little more than skeletons in rusted armor, but it was still creepy. The walls were lined with niches that contained iron-bound chests, all of which were broken and empty. There was a smaller door on the east side of the room, but it was shut. Wait, wasn't it supposed to be open?

"We cannot get out." Gandalf was reading when Morgan's attention came back to him, "The end comes. Drums, drums in the deep. They are coming."

"It was well for us that the pool had sunk a little, and the Watcher was sleeping at the southern end." Gimli said.

"That's great and all, but could we just leave now? This place gives me the creeps." Morgan looked at the open door nervously.

"Back to the hall." Gandalf said, "But our visit here has not been on vain. I know now where we are."

A loud _boom_ interrupted him, like a rolling drum. It was repeated many times, and a horn sounded somewhere. Morgan heard the sound of many feet.

"They are coming!" Legolas cried.

"We cannot get out." said Gimli.

"That's stating the obvious." Morgan muttered.

Gandalf came beside Boromir and Aragorn, who were about to close the door and wedge it shut. "Wait a moment." He drew himself up and said in a loud voice, "Who comes hither to disturb the rest of Balin Lord of Moria?"

There was the sound of harsh laughter, and the drums intensified. Gandalf thrust out his staff. A bright light came from it, and Gandalf looked out for a moment before slamming the door shut. The sound of arrows drumming on it came not a second later.

"There are many orcs, and a cave troll as well. We will not escape that way."

A loud pounding came on the door, and it slowly opened. A greenish-gray hand soon appeared, followed by a toe-less foot of the same hue. With a _bang_ the door suddenly burst open, and orcs began flooding in. The fight was fierce, but short. When thirteen orcs fell the rest ran off. Sam got a scratch on his scalp, but other than that everyone was unharmed. Then the troll came in, wielding a huge hammer.

"Crud." Morgan muttered as it lumbered in. This hadn't happened in the book, but it had happened in the movie, which meant that heaven knew what might happen later on. Legolas' arrow bounced off it's hide, as did Boromir's sword. Frodo did manage to stab it in the foot, causing it to roar and lash out. Frodo managed to dodge, but Gimli wasn't so lucky. He was thrown across the room. The troll swiped again. Aragorn's blade bit deep into its wrist, causing it to drop its hammer. Then the troll grabbed Morgan with its other hand. She screamed as she was swung high overhead. A blast of electricity made it drop her and she fell, still screaming, onto its head.

"My life sucks." she muttered through gritted teeth as she held on for dear life. Morgan let loose almost every bit of energy she had, frying the troll's tiny brain and a few of its other internal organs. It staggered and fell, sending Morgan flying. She hit the ground, slid for a little ways, and slammed into the wall.

"Ow."

Panting, Morgan got up. Her ribs felt bruised, but nothing seemed to be broken.

"Are you all right?" Frodo asked as he ran up. Morgan looked up and saw a tall, dark figure heft a spear and aim it right at Frodo.

"Frodo, look out!"

Frodo turned right as the spear was cast. It hit him in the side and slammed him into the wall. Morgan grunted as he fell on top of her.

"Frodo, if you're not wearing that mithril shirt Bilbo gave you I'm going to kill you." she gritted through her teeth as she crawled out from under him. Aragorn had just killed the orc who had cast the spear. No more orcs came through the door, but the drums grew louder. Boromir went to the other door while Sam ran to Frodo.

"It won't open." Boromir grunted as he tried to open the door. Morgan looked at him in alarm.

"What to you mean the door won't open?"

Aragorn and Gimli joined the effort to open the door, but it remained firmly shut. A horn blew; the orcs were coming. Morgan sighed and went to where the others were struggling with the unyielding door.

"All right, move out of the way. I've got some door-bustin' to do."

The others moved out of the way, and Morgan began charging up what remained of her energy. The resulting blast took the door clean off its hinges. She smiled to herself as she sagged a little.

"Let's go already, unless you want to wait around."

Aragorn picked up Frodo, and they ran down the stairs. Morgan, the last in line, paused at the top of the stairs. A dark presence entered the room, causing her to shiver. Without looking, she fired off another blast of electricity. The dark being staggered back and did not enter the room again. Morgan ran down the stairs, panting as she caught up with the others.

"I'm all right. I can walk. Put me down!" Frodo suddenly said. Everyone but Morgan jumped, and Aragorn almost dropped him.

"I thought you were dead." he said.

"Not yet. Can we just go now?" Morgan said as she hopped onto Aragorn's shoulder. There was a crash behind them, like the roof of the room had caved in.

"I doubt we will be pursued from behind." Gandalf said, "Hurry! Gimli, come ahead with me. The rest of you, keep close behind!"

They took off. The drums began beating again, but they sounded far off. Gandalf went straight, taking no turns. Occasionally they would descend a flight of stairs. After over an hour Gimli said,

"There is a light ahead, but it is red, like fire, and not sunlight."

They came to a large hall where pillars, carved like trees, stood in a double line and held up the roof. Near the base of two of these a fissure had opened. Flames sporadically appeared at the edge, licking the base of the columns. The drums began to beat.

"Now for the last race!" Gandalf cried, "If the sun is still shining, we may make it yet!"

They began running. In the distance, Morgan could see what looked like a bridge spanning a dark chasm. The Bridge of Khazad-dum. There was a whistling sound, and an arrow barely missed her ear. Boromir laughed.

"They are on the wrong side! The fire has cut them off."

They came to the Bridge. It was wide enough for one person at a time, and had no rail. The other side of the chasm was fifty feet away. Gimli crossed first, followed by Merry, Pippin, and the others. Legolas set an arrow on his string, then dropped it as he let out a cry. On the other side of the fissure, a black shape was coming. The orcs parted before it. The darkness seemed to swallow any light that was near it.

"A Balrog!"

"Great." Morgan sighed. Gandalf turned to those not yet on the Bridge.

"Over the Bridge! Fly! This is a foe beyond any of you."

The Balrog leaped over the fissure, and the others started running across the Bridge. Everyone else had reached the other side when the Balrog began crossing. Aragorn turned back, and Morgan saw Gandalf standing alone on the middle of the Bridge, looking small and gray, but shining with a white light.

"You cannot pass." he cried, "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. Dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun. Go back to the Shadow. You cannot pass!"

Flames came from the Balrog's nostrils, and a fiery sword sprang out of the depths of the chasm. There was a clash and a stab of white fire. The Balrog stumbled back, it's sword bursting into molten fragments.

"He cannot stand alone!" Aragorn cried, "Elendil!" He began running towards Gandalf.

"Wait, what are you doing? Go back, go back!" Morgan yelled from his shoulder. They were close when the Balrog suddenly sprang up, dark wings wide, and fiery knife in its hand. Gandalf had no time to react. Morgan's burst of electricity sent the knife spinning into the chasm.

"Break the bridge, Gandalf! Break the bridge!" she screamed as the Balrog got up again and cracked a whip of flame. Gandalf raised his staff and smote the Bridge with all his might. His staff broke and a sheet of white flame sprang up. The stone at the Balrog's feet cracked and split, and the Balrog fell. Gandalf turned to them when its whip suddenly wrapped around his knees and pulled him to the edge. He staggered and fell, grasping at the stone.

"Fly, you fools!" he said, then fell.

The Bridge began crumbling, and Aragorn ran back.

"Come, we must obey his last order. Follow me!"

They ran, stumbling up the stairs that appeared before them. Behind her, Morgan could hear weeping. She was close to crying herself, but thought of how Gandalf was going to come back even more powerful than before. Hopefully.

They came to a hall bright with sunlight. At the other end was the Gate, but it was guarded by orcs. Aragorn struck down what must have been the captain, and the rest fled. The company burst from the great doorway and felt the wind on their faces. It was around one in the afternoon, and the sun was bright. They did not stop until they were out of range of the orcs' arrows. Then grief overcame them. Some fell to the ground weeping, others stood silent. Morgan hopped off of Aragorn's shoulder and went a little ways away.

"For the sake of everyone on this earth, I hope you defeat that Balrog." she whispered quietly.

"Come!" Aragorn called after a short while, "We have a long ways still to go."

Everyone got up except Frodo. Concerned, Morgan went over to him. He was still weeping.

"Frodo, come on. We have to go."

"He's dead." Frodo sobbed, as if he hadn't heard her.

"It's OK, Frodo, you'll see him again."

"Didn't you see? He's gone!" Frodo buried his head in his arms.

"Frodo, look at me. Look at me!"

There was something in her voice that made him look up and meet her eyes. They were serious, with none of the usual humor.

"Frodo, I swear that, in this life or the next, you will see Gandalf again."

They stared at each other for a moment, then Frodo sat up. Suddenly he embraced Morgan, causing her to silently grit her teeth as her bruised ribs cried out in protest.

"I hope you're right." he said, finally letting go of her.

"Me too. Let's get going." Morgan hopped onto his shoulder as he stood.


	4. The Golden Wood

They began walking quickly, following a stream towards the distant woodlands. Sam and Frodo began lagging behind. Morgan could hear Frodo's labored breathing and frowned.

"Aragorn! Hey, Aragorn!" she called, but Aragorn didn't seem to hear. Taking a deep breath, she yelled, "YO, ARAGORN!"

The others stopped and turned around. Sam looked at Morgan with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Yo?"

"Don't ask."

The others came back. Aragorn's face was full of concern.

"I am sorry, Frodo! We were in such need of haste that I have forgotten that you are hurt, and Sam as well. A little further is a place where we can rest for a little while. Come, Boromir, we will carry them."

The Men picked up the two hobbits, and Morgan hopped over to Legolas' shoulder. They went down into a dell that was surrounded by fir trees and shrubs, with a stream running through it. Gimli and the younger hobbits kindled a fire while Aragorn examined Sam's cut. It looked bad. After a moment Aragorn looked up with relief.

"It's not poisoned, as wounds from orc blades too often are." he pulled out some dried leaves. "It is dry, and some of its virtue is gone, but here is some of the athelas that I gathered near Weathertop. Crush it and steep it in water, then wash your wound and I will bind it. Now it is your turn, Frodo."

"I am all right." Frodo said, "All I needed was rest and a little food."

"No, we must have a look. That spear would have skewered a wild boar." Aragorn took off Frodo's jacket and shirt, then gasped in wonder. He laughed as he relieved Frodo of his mithril shirt and held it up. "Look, here's a pretty hobbit-skin to wrap an elven-princeling in!"

While the others marveled at the shirt, Morgan laid down. Now that there was no longer adrenaline running through her, she was dead tired. It hurt to breathe, much less move, so she tried to breathe as little as possible and still remain alive. Frodo took off the soft leather shirt he had been wearing underneath the mail, and Morgan winced at the black bruise that covered his entire left side.

"That has got to hurt." she said as Aragorn took some of the athelas water and bathed Frodo's bruise before tying on some soft cloth pads.

"The mail is light." Aragorn said, "Put it on, if you can bear it. Wear it even in sleep, unless fortune brings you to a place where you are safe, and those places will be few and far between." he turned to Morgan, "Come, Morgan. Let's see what condition you are in."

"Well, I'm tired, and it hurts to breathe, but other than that I'm fine." Morgan said, not moving.

"Is that all? Let's have a look." Aragorn gently picked her up. She winced as he parted her fur, revealing skin that was probably not meant to be the purplish black color that it was. Further gentle prodding revealed that no bones were broken. Aragorn bathed her ribs with the athelas water, which lessened the pain quite a bit.

"It looks like we have matching bruises." Frodo said when Aragorn was done.

"Yep. I'm just glad it was you who fell on top of me, and not Aragorn or Boromir. Then you would have had to scrape me off the floor."

Frodo laughed a little. Morgan smiled, but didn't laugh because she knew it would hurt, athelas or not. They ate, then obliterated all traces of their fire and went on. It was not long before the sun went behind the mountains, and dusk fell. They continued on with only one brief rest. Morgan, once again on Aragorn's shoulder, heard the quiet patter of feet that had followed them all through Moria. Great. All they needed was that little creep after them. After maybe three hours they reached the wood. By that time Morgan was almost asleep, but vaguely heard Boromir protesting about entering Lothlorien.

"Boromir, just shut up and follow Aragorn into the stupid woods so we can all get some sleep." she muttered, though no one heard her.

They had walked about a mile when they came upon a stream.

"Here is Nimrodel!" Legolas cried, "The Silvan Elves made many songs about it, and my people in the north still sing them. I will bathe my feet in it, for it is said that the water is healing to the weary."

"Perhaps you should drop Morgan into it, then." Gimli suggested to Aragorn, "She looks like she is almost asleep."

Aragorn gently took the drowsing Morgan down from his shoulder, then proceeded to drop her into the stream. She woke up immediately.

"That was _not_ funny!" she sputtered as she struggled to get to the opposite shore. The rest of the company laughed, and Legolas picked her up and set her down on the bank.

"Do you feel less weary than before?" he asked as he sat down and put his feet in the water.

"No. Now I just feel cold and wet as well."

The others crossed and rested a bit, eating a little food while Legolas told stories about Lothlorien. Morgan decided to get her revenge and carefully got onto Gimli's helm without him noticing. She then wrung her tail out, making sure the water went down the back of his chain-mail shirt. Gimli let out a yelp, and Morgan took refuge behind Frodo.

"You little..." Gimli started. Morgan poked her head out from behind Frodo and stuck her tongue out.

"Maybe next time you shouldn't suggest dropping me in a cold stream."

"But it was Aragorn who dropped you." Frodo pointed out, laughing.

"True." Faster than anyone thought an exhausted Pachirisu could go, Morgan leaped onto Aragorn's head, finished wringing out her tail down his shirt, and once again took refuge behind Frodo. This time the entire company burst into laughter.

"We should continue, before anyone else gets wet." Aragorn said after a few moments. They went off the path and continued, while Legolas explained how the Elves of Lothlorien used to live in the trees, and still might.

"In these days dwelling in trees might be safer than sitting on the ground." Gimli said.

They came to a cluster of trees not far from the Nimrodel. Their trunks were wide, but their height could not be guessed.

"I will climb up." Legolas said, "I am home among the trees, though I have never yet climbed this kind. Mallorn they are called."

"They must be marvelous indeed if they can offer any rest tonight, except to birds." Pippin said.

"Then dig a hole in the ground, if that suits you better." Legolas said, "Though you will have to dig long and deep to escape the orcs." He jumped up and caught a low branch.

"Daro!" A commanding voice said from the foliage. Legolas immediately let go and pressed himself against the tree.

"Be still and do not speak." he whispered.

There was laughing from the tree, and another voice spoke in what Morgan guessed was Elvish. Legolas looked up and answered in the same tongue.

"Who are they?" Merry whispered.

"They're Elves." Sam answered, "Can't you hear their voices?"

"Yes, they are Elves." Legolas said, "And they say you breathe so loud they could have shot you in the dark." Sam put a hand over his mouth. "But they also say we have no need to fear. They have been aware of us for a while. They heard my voice across the Nimrodel and knew that I was one of their northern kindred, and so did not hinder our crossing. Now they want me to climb up with Frodo; they seem to have had some tidings of our journey."

A rope ladder was let down. Legolas went up fast. Frodo, with Morgan half-asleep on his shoulder, went slower, followed by Sam, who tried to breathe quietly. The branches of the mallorn grew almost straight out of the trunk, then bent upwards. Interestingly enough, though it was winter, the trees still had golden leaves. A wooden platform had been build in the branches, and the ladder went through a hole near the middle of it. There were three Elves wearing silvery-gray seated on the platform. It was hard to see them unless they moved suddenly. One of them uncovered a silver lantern and looked at Frodo's face, then Sam's, then Morgan's.

"That is a strange squirrel that rides on your shoulder." he said.

"I'm not a squirrel, I'm a Pachirisu." Morgan said sleepily, "Just call me Morgan."

The Elf drew back in surprise, then laughed softly. "I know not what a Pachirisu is, but it must a rare creature indeed, if it can speak the Common tongue. My name is Haldir."

Morgan's head jerked up, weariness forgotten for a moment. "Haldir? Oh my gosh, you are so awesome, especially in the movies! It was really sad when you died, but I'm hoping it won't happen here. You are so cool! I'm so glad I get to meet you!" she squealed, all in one breath. Everyone stared at her, and she looked down, shamefaced, "Sorry." she muttered.

"There must not have been a dull moment in your travels." Haldir said after a moment, "You may stay here tonight. How many are there?"

"Eight." Legolas said, "Myself, four hobbits, and two Men, one of whom is Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

"The name of Aragorn is known in Lorien, and he has the favor of the Lady. But you mentioned only seven."

"The eighth is a dwarf."

"A dwarf!" said Haldir, "We have not had any dealings with Dwarves since the Dark Days. I cannot allow him to pass."

"But he is from the Lonely Mountain, and one of Dain's trusty folk." Frodo said, "Elrond himself chose him as one of our companions. He has been nothing but brave and faithful."

The Elves spoke together, then questioned Legolas in Elvish. Finally Haldir nodded.

"Very well. If Legolas and Aragorn will answer for him, he may pass, but he must go blindfolded. Your folk must not remain on the ground. If you have indeed come from Moria, then peril cannot be far behind. The hobbits may stay here. There is another flet in the next tree. The others may stay there. Call us if anything is amiss! And keep an eye on that dwarf!"

Legolas climbed down that ladder to tell the others. Morgan hopped off of Frodo's shoulder, curled up, and was asleep a second later.

Morgan was woken up late in the night by the sound of harsh laughter and lots of feet. Orcs. Frodo was also awake. A head popped up through the hole. It was one of the elves, and he hauled up the rolled-up ladder.

"What is it?" Frodo asked.

"Yrch!" the elf hissed before disappearing.

"Orcs!" Frodo pulled out his sword, Sting. Its blade glowed blue. Slowly, the glow faded. Morgan went to looked down the opening. She heard movement, and it wasn't elves. Frodo joined her. They silently watched something slowly begin to climb up. Two pale eyes looked up at them. Then the thing looked away and vanished around the tree trunk.

"Do you think that was the same thing that followed us through Moria?" Frodo whispered.

"Pretty sure."

Haldir came up. "There was something in this tree that I have never seen before. I would have thought it was one of you hobbits, but it seemed to have some skill in climbing. I dared not shoot and risk any cries. We cannot risk battle here. The orcs crossed the Nimrodel and seemed to pick up some scent where you stopped. We led them off with feigned voices. None of them will escape, and there will be many elves on the northern border by tomorrow night, but tomorrow, you must take the road south as soon as it is light."

The next morning Haldir led them along a path until they reached a stream. He gave a low whistle and another elf stepped out of the trees on the other side. Haldir tossed him one end of a rope and tied the other end to a tree.

"Celebrant is already a strong stream, as you can see, and we do not usually cross so far north. But in these times, we dare not make bridges. This is how we cross."

"I can walk this path." Legolas said, "but the others have not the skill. Must they swim?"

"No. We have two more ropes. We will fasten one shoulder high, and one half as high."

The ropes were tied. Legolas ran lightly across, not holding on to anything. Morgan, too small to hold onto anything, scampered across quickly, using her tail to balance. Once across, she called encouragement to those who needed it, like Sam. The other elf seemed to find this amusing, though she didn't know if he spoke the Common tongue or not. Finally everyone was across. Two of the ropes were untied and coiled up by Haldir. The third was hauled across by an elf on the other side, who waved and left.

"Now, as agreed, we will blindfold Gimli the Dwarf." Haldir said.

"This agreement was made without my consent. "Gimli growled, I will not walk blindfolded like a prisoner, nor am I a spy. I am as likely to betray you as Legolas, or any other of the company."

"I do not doubt you, but that is our law."

"OK, before we have any violence, I have an idea." Morgan said, "How about everyone gets blindfolded? That way no one is singled out and we can get this show on the road."

Gimli laughed. "A merry troop of fools will we look! But I am content, as long as Legolas shares my blindness."

"I am an Elf and a kinsman here!" Legolas cried angrily.

"Legolas, just shut up and put the stupid blindfold on." Morgan snapped as she hopped onto Frodo's shoulder.

"Is something bothering you, Morgan?" Aragorn asked.

"No. I just want to get moving, that's all." In reality, Morgan was a little worried about Gollum. What if he followed them when he wasn't supposed to and attacked Frodo or something like that?

Legolas permitted them to blindfold him. After everyone was blindfolded, they started off. True to her nature, Morgan wasn't worried long. She happily chatted with anyone who would talk to her. When everyone else was silent, she would listen. Funny how not being able to see seemed to sharpen every other sense. There were hundreds of smells that seemed to leap out at her. Each tree seemed to have its own pitch as the wind rustled the leaves, and there was a myriad of other sounds, most of which she could identify.

They walked all day, sleeping on the ground still blindfolded. The next day they walked at a leisurely pace until about noon. Morgan caught the sound of a large group approaching, Elves by their voices. The company stopped, and the group passed them. One stopped to talk to Haldir before continuing on.

"The Lord and Lady have sent a message that I may remove your blindfolds, even Gimli's." He removed the dwarf's first. "Your pardon!" he said, bowing low, "Look on us now with friendly eyes. You are the first dwarf since Durin's day to behold Cerin Amroth."

Morgan quickly pulled off her blindfold and gasped. They were in a clearing. A mound, green with grass, was dotted with white and gold flowers. Two circles of trees topped the mound. The outer trees were leafless, with white bark, but still looked beautiful. The inner ones were mallorn, tall with golden leaves. An extremely tall mallorn stood in the center, and she could make out a white flet amidst its branches. Morgan jumped down from Frodo's shoulder and went to look at the flowers. The gold ones were elanor. What were the white ones called? Niphredil, that was it. Curious, she went to to center tree on the top of the mound. There was a ladder, but Morgan ignored it and climbed up the tree as well as any squirrel. On the platform she looked south. In the distance she could make out what were either very tall trees or green towers. Turning westward, she saw the Misty Mountains. The land north was flat, with a river running through it. Then she looked east. There was a river; the Anduin. Beyond that was a vast dark expanse. That must be southern Mirkwood. With one last look south, she climbed back down and curled up on the grass. It was a very nice place. Too bad they couldn't just stay here.

After a little while they continued on. Night had come when they finally emerged from the trees. A tall wall was in front of them. Behind it, mallorn trees taller than any they had seen before grew proud and straight. Morgan looked almost straight up, but couldn't make out the tops in the darkness.

"Welcome to Caras Galadhon!" Haldir said, "But we cannot enter here. The gates do not look northward. We will have to go to the southern side, and the way is not short, for the city is great."

The way was paved with white stones. When they finally reached the gates Haldir knocked and spoke, and the doors opened. Morgan looked around, but saw no sign of any guards, or anyone else for that matter. They walked down a path that ran between the towering trees. There were voices all around them, and above them as well. After a while they came to a wide lawn with a fountain in the middle. On the other side was the largest tree Morgan had ever seen; an emperor among kings. A broad white ladder climbed up the trunk, and two Elves in white cloaks stood at the foot of it.

"Here dwell Celeborn and Galadriel. It is their wish that you should ascend and speak with them. I will go first, and Frodo and Legolas will come after me. The others may follow as they wish."

They started climbing. Morgan jumped from Frodo's shoulder to the trunk of the great tree and scampered up. When she could no longer hear the others she'd perch on one of the rungs until they caught up with her, then shoot off again. There were many flets, and quite a few Elves started as she shot past. Finally the ladder ended, and Morgan hopped onto a large flet. On it was built what looked like a great house or hall of some sort. When everyone had come up she resumed her place on Frodo's shoulder. They followed Haldir into the hall.

The trunk of the tree, much more slender than at the foot but still wide, came up through the floor and exited out the roof. The hall itself was oval, with green and silver walls and a golden roof. There were many Elves inside, all seated. Underneath the trunk were two chairs. Morgan guessed that the two Elves sitting on the chairs were Celeborn and Galadriel. They stood to greet their guests, and she saw that they were the same height, which happened to be very tall. They were wearing white. Celeborn's hair was silver, and Galadriel's was golden, but they didn't look old. Celeborn welcomed each as they entered and bade them sit.

"That is a strange creature that sits upon your shoulder, Frodo of the Shire." he said when everyone was seated. Morgan mentally sighed with relief at not being called a squirrel.

"I'm a Pachirisu, but you can call me Morgan."

Celeborn's eyebrows rose. "You must be a wondrous creature indeed if you can speak the Common tongue." Then he turned to the others. "Is this the nine that set out from Rivendell?"

"No." Galadriel said, "Gandalf the Gray set out with the company, but he did not pass the borders of this land. Now tell us where he is, for I had much desired to speak with him."

"Alas!" Aragorn said, "He fell into shadow. Gandalf remained in Moria and did not escape."

Morgan half-listened as Aragorn talked of their journey. She looked around, taking in every detail of the hall, from the white wooden floor to the golden leaves that formed the roof. Her attention was dragged back when she heard Galadriel say,

"Your quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while all the company is true."

She then proceeded to look each in the eye. Only Aragorn and Legolas could meet her gaze for long. Then she met Morgan's eyes. The others watched as they stared at each other for a full minute. Then they broke eye contact at the same time. Galadriel smiled.

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Tonight you shall sleep in peace."

Celeborn wished them good rest, and the company descended down the ladder except Morgan, who climbed down much the same way she had climbed up. A pavilion had been set up by the fountain, with soft couches. While the others talked, Morgan thought. She knew that Galadriel had offered each member the thing they most desired, if they would only turn from the quest when she had held their eyes. To Morgan herself she offered to send her back home. This was what Morgan was thinking about. Why was she here in the first place? Was there something she was supposed to be doing? Or was she already doing it? Were things going wrong because she was there, or was she there because things were going wrong? Was she ever going to get home? There were just too many questions, and she was beginning to feel a little homesick.

"What of you, Morgan? She held your gaze longest of all." Boromir asked. Morgan shook herself free of her thoughts.

"I'd prefer to keep that to myself, thank you very much." she said before curling up and going to sleep.


	5. The Mirror of Galadriel

They spent many days in Lothlorien. The sun shone clear, except when a gentle rain fell and left everything feeling fresh and clean. They didn't see Celeborn or Galadriel again, and Haldir had gone back to the northern border. Very few Elves knew the Common tongue, so they didn't speak with many. After the first night Legolas didn't sleep with them. He was often gone, and occasionally took Gimli with them. Morgan was grateful. Hopefully this meant that there would be no more fighting over the whole Elf-Dwarf thing. She spent her time either with Frodo or Aragorn, though she would occasionally go by herself and climb up a tree, looking over the forest from the highest branches and listening to the elves below her sing laments to Gandalf.

One evening she was with Frodo and Sam. While they talked she thought. They would have to be leaving soon. Then they would go down the Anduin until the Falls of Rauros, where the fellowship would be broken. What would happen to her? Maybe she should go with Frodo and Sam. Surely they could use her help. But if she went with them, Boromir would die for sure. There was no way she could save Boromir and then join Frodo and Sam, not unless she swam across the lake. Could Pachirisu even swim? Maybe she should go with Aragorn and them. But which way was she supposed to go?

Morgan looked up just in time to see Galadriel beckon to them and begin walking. Frodo and Sam followed her down the southern slope of Caras Galadhon to a garden enclosed by a hedge. The Lady went down into a hollow. At the bottom was a stream and a silver basin on a pedestal carved like a tree. She took a silver ewer, filled the basin to the brim, and breathed on it.

"Here is the Mirror of Galadriel. I have brought you here that you might look upon it, if you will."

"What will we see?" Frodo asked. Morgan already knew, but kept her mouth shut.

"Many things I can command the Mirror to reveal." Galadriel said, "But it will also show things unbidden, and those can be more profitable. Do you wish to look?"

Frodo was silent. Sam raised his hand a little.

"I'll have a peep, Lady, if you're willing."

He stepped up to the pedestal and gazed into the water. Morgan caught his exclamations over what he saw happening in the Shire, but mostly stared at Galadriel. What did she think about Morgan? And what did she know? Her concentration was broken when Sam leaped away from the Mirror.

"I can't stay here. They've dug up Bagshot Row, and there's the old gaffer going down the Hill with his bits of things in his barrow. I have to go home!"

"But you cannot go home alone." Galadriel said gently, "You did not wish to go home without your master before you looked into the Mirror, and yet you knew evil things might be happening in the Shire. Remember the Mirror shows many things, some of which have not come to pass, and may never come to pass unless those that behold the visions turn aside to prevent them."

Sam sat on the ground, head in hands. After a while he said, "No, I'll go home the long way with Mr. Frodo or not at all."

The Lady then turned her eyes on Morgan. "Do you wish to look?"

"Me?" Morgan squeaked, pointing to herself. Galadriel nodded, and after a moment of hesitation Morgan sighed. "All right." she said as she hopped onto the pedestal and looked into the water. At first she saw only stars. Then the Mirror cleared, and she saw a field with tall grass stretching to the horizon. A large group of men on horses galloped across it. The vision changed, and she saw ships with black sails floating in a port. Then those same ships were sailing up a river, towards a ruined city. Then she saw herself riding on Gimli's shoulder. How the heck was that ever going to happen? The next thing she saw was herself going down a steep mountain path into a dark land. Was it Mordor? A moth, followed by a great shadow. Then she saw Aragorn, in the middle of what looked like a battlefield, cradling her and looking sad and concerned. From what Morgan could see, she wasn't moving. At all. The Mirror went black. She saw a brief glimpse of a yellow eye with a slit pupil, rimmed with fire. Then that faded, and she saw only stars. Morgan frowned as she looked at Galadriel, then hopped onto Sam's shoulder. Those last two visions concerned her. Did she see her own death? And why did she see the Eye, if only for a second?

"Do you wish to look, Frodo?" Galadriel asked.

"Do you advise me to look?"

"I do not counsel you one way or another. You may see something profitable, and yet it may not. Seeing is both good and perilous. Do as you will."

"I will look." Frodo climbed onto the pedestal and looked. After a little bit Morgan could see wisps of steam curling up from the water. Frodo seemed to be getting closer and closer to the surface. He must be seeing the Eye.

"Do not touch the water." Galadriel said softly. Frodo seemed to be trying to pull away, but couldn't. He was about to touch the water when Morgan jumped onto his back, grabbed his hair, and yanked. After a split second of wobbling Frodo fell backwards. Morgan nimbly jumped off before he landed on her and resumed her place on Sam's shoulder. Frodo took a moment to recover before nodding to her in thanks and standing.

"I know what it is that you last saw, for it was also on my mind." Galadriel said, "And I say to you, do not be afraid, for not only by the singing in the trees or the slender arrows of the Elves is the land of Lothlorien maintained and defended. Even as I speak to you, I perceive the Dark Lord and know his mind, or all that concerns the Elves. And he gropes ever to see my thought, but the door is closed!"

She raised her arms as if in defiance to the east. Morgan caught the glitter of a ring on her finger. Wait a second. Wasn't Frodo the only one who was supposed to see it? Hauling the Ring out of a crevice probably didn't count towards becoming a Ring-bearer.

"I will give you the One Ring, if you ask for it." Frodo said, "It is too great a matter for me."

"I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired what you offer. In place of a Dark Lord you would set up a Queen. Not dark, but beautiful and terrible as the morning and the night! Fair as the sea and the sun and the snow upon the mountain!Dreadful as the storm and the lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love me and despair!"

Galadriel raised her arms, and suddenly it seemed as though a light illuminated her and left all else dark. She seemed terrible and beautiful. Then she let her arms fall, and became just a slender elf-woman in simple white.

"I pass the test." she said, "I will diminish and go into the west, and remain Galadriel." They stood for a while in silence, then she continued. "Tomorrow you must depart, for we have chosen, and the tides of fate are flowing."

That night the company was summoned to the chamber of Celeborn. Morgan was too busy thinking to pay much attention, though she did hear something about boats. If she followed what the Mirror showed, then she would end up with Aragorn. But what about the second to last vision? It really had looked like she was dead. Did that mean going with Aragorn would result in her death? Or would she die if she didn't go with him? Or did it really even matter? Galadriel had said that it was a bad idea to plan just according to what the Mirror said. That still left her with a decision: Frodo, or Aragorn?

"Good night." Galadriel was saying, "Do not trouble your hearts overmuch with thought of the road tonight. Maybe the paths that you each shall tread are already at your feet, though you do not see them. Good night!"

Morgan decided to take Galadriel's word and not think about it too much. After all, they still had all that traveling by boat. Speaking of boat, could Pachirisu swim? That might be a nice thing to know in case she fell out. Or Gimli threw her overboard. They went back to their pavilion. The others talked, but Morgan, content with not thinking about the road ahead, went to sleep.

The next morning Elves that could speak the Common tongue came with gifts of food and clothing. Morgan watched in amusement as Gimli ate an entire thing of lembas bread. The members of the company were then given cloaks that seemed to change color depending on the light. Morgan didn't get one, but she didn't mind. How would a Pachirisu wear a cloak, anyway? As they were saying farewell to the lawn by the fountain, Haldir came up.

"Hi, Haldir!" Morgan called when she saw him. He bowed to her.

"I have returned from the northern fences and have been sent to be your guide once again. Come, your way lies south."

They followed him through Caras Galadhon and out the gates. It was almost noon when they suddenly came out of the trees. Before them was a large grassy area studded with golden elanor. The area was situated between two rivers and ended in a point where the rivers met. There was a dock of sorts where quite a few boats were moored. Some were brightly painted, but most were white or gray. Three small gray ones had been made ready for the company. The Elves stowed their gear in them and added three coils of rope to each boat. Sam looked relieved. Morgan hoped he would remember to put one in his pack.

The Elves advised them to take a trial run up the Silverlode, one of the rivers, before it joined with the Anduin. Morgan went with Aragorn, Sam, and Frodo in the first boat. Boromir, Merry, and Pippin were in the second boat, and Legolas and Gimli were in the last one, as well as most of the baggage. Once they were all in the boats Aragorn led them up the Silverlode. As they passed a sharp bend a gigantic swan came into view. Upon closer inspection Morgan saw that it was a boat, beautifully carved to resemble a swan. The sounds of a harp and singing came from it. Celeborn was sitting in the swan-boat, and Galadriel stood behind him, playing the harp and singing a sad song. As it drew up alongside them, Celeborn hailed them.

"Though you have been our guests, you have yet to eat with us, and so we come to have a parting feast and speed you with blessings from our land."

They went back to the dock, and the feast was speedily laid out. Afterwords they were given directions, depending on where they wished to go. Then Galadriel rose.

"Before we say farewell I have brought gifts which the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien offer you in memory of the Golden Wood."

To Aragorn she gave sheath, with flowers and leaves made of silver and gold. "Perhaps this will lighten your heart." she said as she held out something small, "This was left in my care to give to you, should you pass this way."

Aragorn accepted the thing, a clear green stone set in a silver brooch made to look like an eagle with outstretched wings. He pinned it onto his jacket, and Morgan smiled. He looked very kingly all of a sudden.

Galadriel proceeded with the gift giving. To Boromir she gave a belt of gold, and to Merry and Pippin belts of silver with a golden flower-shaped clasp. Legolas received a bow like the Elves of Lothlorien used, and a quiver of arrows. With a smile she gave Sam a small box of earth from her orchard, which would help things grow in even the barrenest places.

"And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?" she asked Gimli.

"Nothing, Lady." he replied, "It was enough to have seen you and hear your gentle voice."

"Let none say that Dwarves are grasping and ungracious. But surely you desire something that I could give? Name it, I bid you! You shall not be the only one without a gift."

"There is nothing," he stammered, "unless it is permitted to ask, nay, to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses all the gold of the earth. I do not ask for such a gift, but you commanded me to name my desire."

The Elves murmured in astonishment, but the Lady smiled. "Never has anyone made a request so bold and yet so courteous. And how can I refuse, since I commanded you to speak?"

With that she cut off three golden hairs, and laid them in Gimli's hand. Then she turned to Morgan.

"I also have a gift for you, Morgan."

"Really?" Morgan's eyes grew wide as she jumped onto the arm of Galadriel's chair.

"This has long been in my keeping, and the one to whom it belonged no longer needs it. May it serve as a reminder of what you have seen here."

Galadriel picked up a chain from her lap. On the chain was a small clear gem, shaped like a mallorn leaf, set in silver. She doubled the chain and placed it around Morgan's neck.

"Wow, thank you!" Morgan beamed before bowing and returning to the others.

"And you, Ring-bearer," Galadriel turned to Frodo, "I have come to you last who is not last in my thoughts. For you I have prepared this." She held up a small crystal phial. "In this phial is caught the light of Earendil's star, set amid the waters of my fountain. May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out."

Frodo took the phial and bowed low, but seemed at a loss for words. They returned to their boats, and the Elves pushed them out into the current with long poles. No one moved as they stared back at the Golden Wood. They passed into the Anduin, and the current sped up. Galadriel stood at the point of the land, hands raised in farewell. Morgan caught the sound of her voice, singing in elvish. Suddenly the river swept around a bend, and the land of Lothlorien was hidden.

...

Whew, five chapters in one go. *wipes sweat off forehead* I will post more chapters as I write them, hopefully soon.


	6. Of Rivers and Breaking

Another chapter! Yay! I've been gone for most of this week and will be gone for part of next, so no guarantees on when I'll get the next chapter written. Anyway, on with the story! (and I still don't own anything except my ideas, in case you're wondering.)

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><p>The landscape was pretty boring as they traveled down the river, basically bare woods on either side, so Morgan occupied herself with thinking about what was going to happen at the end of the trip and trying to guess exactly where they were. How long had it taken again? On the third day the scenery slowly changed. On the left was a brown, desolate land. On the right was a treeless plain of grass, green in many spots, as well as huge patches of reeds. That must be Rohan. The company was quiet all that day and the next. When they camped that night, Morgan heard Sam talking softly with Frodo. She didn't pay much attention until she heard Sam say,<p>

"I saw a log with eyes!"

Morgan's ears perked up as she listened to Sam describe how he saw a log behind Gimli's boat, with eyes and feet. Gollum again. That little creep was beginning to get annoying.

"Sound familiar, Frodo?" she said softly as she came up.

"It does. Morgan and I have seen those eyes before, in Moria and before we reached Lothlorien, when we slept on the flets."

Sam frowned. "Thinking of one thing or another, and Mr. Bilbo's stories and all, I fancy I could put a name to that creature. A nasty name. Gollum, maybe?"

Morgan nodded and curled up. With any luck things would go right for once. Or they'd wake up to find Gollum trying to strangle Frodo or something unpleasant like that.

Nothing happened until the eighth night of traveling. Morgan was with Sam, who was acting as watchman, in the front of the boat. It was around midnight when she caught a roaring sound.

"I think I hear rapids ahead." she called.

The current became very swift, and they were swept towards the eastern bank.

"Back! Turn back if you can!" Aragorn cried as he tried to bring the boat around. The others strove to do the same. There was a twanging sound from the eastern shore, and several arrows whistled overhead. One struck Frodo in the back, but was deflected by his hidden armor. Another ripped a chunk out of Morgan's ear. She cried out as she fell backwards into the boat.

"Morgan!" Frodo cried.

"I'm fine. Just paddle!"

Their progress was slow, but there were no more hits. Finally they made it to the middle of the river and headed towards the western bank. There were some bushes leaning out over the water, and they steered the boats under them. Legolas took his bow and went a few paces onto the shore, though nothing could be seen on the other side of the river.

Suddenly a feeling of dread descended upon the company, and a dark shape blotted out the stars as it headed towards them. Morgan silently cursed under her breath. Stupid Ringwraiths! Legolas shot an arrow. There was a harsh scream, and the dark shape fell on the opposite bank. A wailing came up, then everything was silent. After a while Aragorn led them upstream until they found a shallow bay. They didn't dare light a fire, but huddled in the boats. Aragorn silently examined Morgan's ear. She hissed in pain as he cleaned and bandaged it, but managed to make no other noise. When he was finished she curled up and slept in an effort to avoid the discomfort.

It was morning when Morgan awoke. Fog hid everything, sheltering from any eyes that might be on the eastern shore. Aragorn and Legolas went to look for the portage-way that used to skirt the rapids of Sarn Gebir. Several hours later they returned with news that the portage-way was not far, but they might have trouble getting the boats there.

They hauled the boats out of the water. They were lighter than anyone expected, but it still took Aragorn and Boromir to carry them over the rough ground between the bay and the path. The others carried the baggage and set it on the path before going back. Morgan, not much help in carrying anything, stayed with the boats and whatnot on the portage-way. It was quiet, the fog muffling any sound. Then she caught something. She turned her good ear towards the noise. It sounded like the pattering of feet. Then it stopped. Morgan peered into the mist, trying to catch any glimpse of Gollum. Nothing happened, however.

Finally everything was gathered, and they continued down the portage-way. It took two trips, but they managed to get their stuff to where the path met the water. There they spent another night. In the morning they headed off again. The clouds lowered, and it began to rain. The storm didn't last long, however. It soon left, taking the fog with it. Before them was a wide ravine. The current picked up, and soon they were going so fast they had no chance of stopping any time soon.

"Hold to the middle of the stream!" Aragorn called.

Morgan saw two pillars of some sort up ahead. The Argonath, the Pillars of the Kings. As they got closer she could see that they were actually carved like kings. Their left hands were held out in warning as they frowned at the north. Their right hands each held an ax, and they wore helms and crowns. Morgan looked at them in awe as they passed. High cliffs rose on either side, casting them into shadow. Then they were through the ravine and in sunlight.

The river spread out into a lake, surrounded by hills. At the opposite end stood an island: Tol Brandir. There were also two large hills, one on either side. The right was Amon Hen. What was the left one? Amon Lhaw, that was it. The Hills of Sight and Hearing, respectively. In the distance the Falls of Rauros roared.

After drifting for a little while on the current that ran through the middle of the lake, they paddled over to Amon Hen. A lawn of sorts ran down to the water, and they pulled their boats onto it. By the time the boats were safely beached, the sun was down. They ate quickly and went to sleep.

The next morning, after they had eaten, Aragorn called them together. The mood was grim. Now the decision they had been putting off for so long had to be made, and it had to be made quickly.

"Well, Frodo," Aragorn said after a moment, "I fear the choice lies with you."

Frodo was silent for a moment, then said, "I know that haste is needed, but I cannot make up my mind. Allow me an hour, and I will decide."

"Very well. You shall have your hour, but do not wander far, or out of call."

Frodo stood and left. The others moved restlessly for a while, then gathered once again and began talking. Morgan kept a close eye on Boromir, who was sitting outside the circle. Then she began thinking. She had a choice to make as well. Did she wait by the boats and go with Frodo and Sam, or follow Aragorn and go with him, Legolas, and Gimli? She really wanted to stop Boromir from dying. But, wouldn't that mess things up? Maybe he was meant to die. But, she really wanted to save him if she could. What choice should she make?

Morgan looked up. To her chagrin Boromir was nowhere in sight. Mentally chewing herself out for not paying better attention (not that it surprised her) she quietly took off up the hill. After a little while she heard Boromir's voice. He must be trying to convince Frodo, then. It sounded angry, so Morgan put on an extra burst of speed. She found them right as Boromir leaped over a large rock and grabbed Frodo. They both fell to the ground. Boromir had actually gotten hold of the Ring when Morgan shocked him just enough to stun him.

"Run, Frodo. I'll take care of him." Morgan said.

Frodo nodded, put on the Ring, and disappeared. Morgan waited a few seconds, then hopped onto a low branch. A few seconds later Boromir recovered. He stood, looking around angrily for Frodo.

"I see your mind. You will take the Ring to Sauron! You will betray us all! Curse you! Curse you, and all the halflings!"

Suddenly he tripped and lay unmoving, as if his own curse had struck him down. Then he rose, wiping tears from his eyes.

"What have I done?" he said softly, then cried, "Frodo! Frodo, I'm sorry! A madness overtook me, but it has passed. Frodo, come back!"

Boromir wandered around, calling for Frodo. Morgan silently followed him, making sure he didn't see her. After a while he stopped calling and wandered around aimlessly for a little less than an hour before heading back to the others.

"Where have you been, Boromir?" Aragorn asked as Boromir sat down, "Have you seen Frodo?"

Boromir hesitated a second. "Yes and no. Yes, I found him some way up the hill. I urged him to come to Minas Tirith. I grew angry and he left. He vanished. I have never seen anything like it. He must have put the Ring on. I could not find him. I thought he would return to you."

"Is that all you have to say?" Aragorn asked, looking hard at Boromir.

"Yes." he answered, "I will say no more yet."

"How long since you found him?"

"Half an hour, maybe an hour. I have wandered some time since. I do not know!" he put his head in his hands, bowed with grief.

"An hour since he vanished!" Sam shouted, "We must find him at once!"

"Wait a moment!" Aragorn cried, put too late. The hobbits were off, shouting for Frodo. Legolas and Gimli were running. Morgan sighed as Aragorn told Boromir to follow Merry and Pippin. This was going to be a whole lot of chaos. Boromir took off after Merry and Pippin, with Morgan not far behind. She caught the sound of harsh laughter and jumped onto Boromir's shoulder.

"There are orcs ahead. Hurry!"

They found the two hobbits facing a horde of orcs that streamed down the hill. Boromir bravely charged while Morgan hopped off and began picking off orcs with her electric blasts. Unfortunately, there were quite a few orcs and only two of them.

"Blow your horn, Boromir!" Morgan yelled.

Boromir put his horn to his lips and blew. The call echoed amid the trees. Again and again he blew, all the while fighting. Then a very large and nasty-looking orc jumped up and cut the horn in half. Boromir quickly killed the orc and focused solely on defending the two hobbits. Morgan looked up the hill just in time to see an orc loose an arrow. It slammed into Boromir, sending him staggering.

"NO!" Morgan screamed before letting out a blast that took out all the orcs in the vicinity, including the one with the bow. More orcs came. She couldn't deal with them all. One came up and kicked her, sending her flying until she thudded into a tree. Morgan managed to retain consciousness just long enough to see orcs grab Merry and Pippin and pull out ropes. Then she fainted.

Crying. Someone was crying softly. With a groan Morgan stirred and opened her eyes. Aragorn was kneeling by Boromir, who was leaning against a tree, eyes closed. Then it hit her. Boromir was dead. She couldn't save him.

Legolas and Gimli ran up, but she didn't notice them. Nor did she hear them discuss what to do with Boromir's body or what to do next. Only when Aragorn picked her up did she come back the the real world.

"Morgan, what's wrong?" Aragorn asked.

"I failed. I couldn't save him." Morgan whispered before burying her head in Aragorn's shoulder and crying. After a few minutes she calmed down.

"What happened?" Aragorn asked gently.

"Boromir took off after Merry and Pippin, and I followed him. When we found them there were orcs coming after them. We fought, but then Boromir got shot..." Morgan took a moment to get her emotions under control. "I took out the archer, but more came. One orc kicked me and I hit a tree and got knocked out."

"Were Frodo and Sam there as well?"

"No. Just Merry and Pippin, and I think the orcs captured them. Frodo and Sam have probably already reached the eastern shore of the lake."

"What do you mean?"

"I think Frodo decided to go alone, but Sam knows him pretty well and probably got one step ahead and found him as he was leaving. Since Sam is hard to shake off and Frodo didn't really want to go alone anyway, Frodo took Sam with him."

"How could you know this?" Aragorn asked, amazed.

"Just a guess." Morgan scrubbed the tears from her eyes.

Aragorn set her down as Gimli cut some branches. They lashed bowstrings to them, laid cloaks over that, and put Boromir on the improvised stretcher. Carefully, they carried him to the water. Legolas and Gimli then went to get the boats. They returned in one boat with another tied behind it.

"There is a strange tale to tell." Legolas said, "There were only two boats. We could find no trace of the other."

"I will take a look at the ground when we come there." Aragorn said.

They arranged Boromir in one of the boats and pulled it out into the current, where they cut it loose. Morgan watched sadly as Boromir's boat disappeared over the falls. Behind her Aragorn started singing a lament. Legolas took over at some point, then Aragorn finished it. Then they paddled back to their camp, where Aragorn looked at the ground.

"No orcs have been here." he said, "It seems Morgan was right. Frodo and Sam have left. The fellowship is broken."

"What now?" Morgan asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aragorn was quiet a moment. "I would have guided Frodo to Mordor and gone with him to the end. But we cannot abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Come! We will go now. Leave all that can be spared behind."

They quickly hid the remaining boat and grabbed the necessary food and equipment before returning to the glade where Boromir had fallen. The trail was not hard to find. A blind man could have followed the path the orcs had hacked and slashed through the undergrowth. Morgan took a deep breath as she bid a silent farewell to the place from Aragorn's shoulder.

"Forth the Four Hunters!" Aragorn cried before speeding through the trees. Legolas and Gimli were close behind. Morgan turned her attention to the path ahead. There was no use in crying now. All she could do was hope that she had made the right choice.


	7. The Plains of Rohan

Sorry about the delay. It was a combination of not being here, recovering from the time spent not being here, and a nasty case of writer's block. But anyway, here's the next chapter!

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><p>The four ran all day and through the night, stopping in the pale hour before dawn to rest. They had come to the top of a stony ridge. A valley was below them, with another steep ridge on the other side. For a little bit Aragorn was at a loss. The trail went into the valley, but from there it disappeared.<p>

"Which way do you think they would turn?" Legolas asked, "Northward is the straighter road towards Isengard. Or would they turn south towards the Entwash?"

"They will not make for the river, and unless the power of Saruman has greatly increased they will take the shortest way over the fields of Rohan."

They headed north. Aragorn was bent close to the ground, searching for tracks. Legolas was some distance ahead. Suddenly the Elf stopped and gave a cry. The others ran up to him.

"It seems we have overtaken some of those that we are hunting." he said when the others had caught up, pointing to several bodies. They were all orcs. All looked like they had been hacked to pieces, and two were beheaded.

"Here is yet another riddle." Gimli said, "But it needs the light of day, and we cannot wait for it."

"However you read it, it seems hopeful." Legolas pointed out, "Enemies of the orcs are likely to be our friends. Do any folk dwell here?" he asked Aragorn.

"No. The Rohirrim seldom come here, and it is far away from Minas Tirith. I think the enemy brought its own enemy with it. These are northern orcs from far away. I do not see any of the great orcs with the strange badges. There was a quarrel, I guess. It is not uncommon with these foul folk. Maybe there was a dispute over the road."

"Or the prisoners." Gimli said, "Let us hope they did not meet their end here as well."

"I doubt it." Morgan piped up.

"And why do you say that?" Aragorn sounded slightly amused.

"Well, they probably know a hobbit has the Ring. But they don't know which hobbit, and the orcs wouldn't care anyway. Their orders would follow along the lines of grab the halflings, bring them back alive for questioning, and don't take anything. That's my guess."

Aragorn nodded thoughtfully as he searched around. After finding no other traces of a fight they continued onward. After a while Aragorn found tracks by a small stream. They followed the new course for a while. The sun rose. Then they came to a cliff.

"This might get a little tricky." Morgan muttered as they looked out over the plains of Rohan.

"Look, there is a great company on foot. They are far away, though, and I cannot tell what kind of folk they are. They are many leagues away; twelve, I would guess, though the flatness of the plain is hard to measure."

"Let us find a way down as quickly as may be." Gimli said.

"I doubt you'll find a quicker way down than the way the orcs took." Aragorn commented. Morgan grinned a little.

"Unless you want to jump. That's probably the quickest way down."

As they ran along the cliff they found things that had been cast away in haste: empty food bags, a torn black cloak, a broken shoe. The stream turned and went down a steep cleft in the cliff. The trail also headed that way, and they followed it, coming at last onto the plains. The air was warmer and softer, like spring was already there. Morgan took a deep breath. The sent of plants just beginning to grow was refreshing. They ran single file, following the trail that the orcs had trampled through the grass. Suddenly Aragorn veered off the main path.

"Stay! Do not follow me yet!" he said. Morgan guessed he had found Pippin's footprints. Soon the trail was crossed by orc prints and lost. He was about to turn back when Morgan caught sight of something glittering in the grass.

"What's that?" she asked as she pointed. Aragorn picked it up. It was an elven brooch, like a newly-opened beech leaf and exactly like the ones the others now wore. They went back to the others, where Aragorn showed them the brooch.

"Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall." he said, "I think this was cast away on purpose, to any that might follow. The footprints belong to a hobbit, Pippin's by my guess. He was smaller than the other."

"They may yet be alive." Legolas said, "Let us hope he did not pay too heavily for it. Let us go!"

They ran on. After a while Morgan noticed that Gimli was lagging behind.

"Come on, Gimli, hurry up!" she called.

Gimli said nothing, and Morgan turned her attention to the path ahead. After a while she looked back. Gimli was still lagging and was farther behind than before.

"I thought you dwarves were supposed to have a lot of stamina."

Gimli growled something and picked up his pace. After a few minutes she looked back again. Gimli was farther behind than ever.

"If you can't keep up maybe you should go back to work in your coal mine!"

Gimli let out a roar and charged towards her, brandishing his ax.

"Run faster, Aragorn! He's gonna kill me!"

Aragorn laughed as he sped up. After a short while Gimli seemed to calm down and put his ax away. They ran until the sun had set and it was getting hard to see. Aragorn stopped.

"Now we come to a hard choice. Do we rest by night, or do we go on while our strength and will holds?"

"Unless our enemies rest also, they will leave us far behind if we sleep." Legolas said.

"But we cannot follow the trail by night." Gimli pointed out.

"The trail goes in a straight line, as far as my eyes can see."

"Maybe I could lead you at a guess and hold to the line." Aragorn said, "But if we strayed, or if they turned, then when light came there might be a long delay while we search for the trail."

Morgan, knowing how the argument would turn out, began thinking. It had taken them, what, three days before they met Éomer in the book? And after that, they went into Fangorn Forest and met up with Gandalf. Unless the Balrog had actually managed to kill Gandalf, in which case they were all going to die anyway. Then they would go to Edoras, if nothing went wrong.

"Let us use the time as best we may." Aragorn said, jolting Morgan from her thoughts. She hopped off his shoulder, curled up, and went to sleep, knowing the others were doing the same thing.

The next morning Morgan woke up just in time to hear Aragorn say something about horses passing in the west. That must be Éomer. They ran all that day, not even pausing to eat. They halted again at dusk.

"Now do I most begrudge our rest." Legolas said, "The orcs have run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them. I fear even now they have passed into the forest."

Gimli ground his teeth. "This is a bitter end to all our hope and toil."

"To our hope, maybe, but not our toil." Aragorn said, "We will not turn back here. Yet I am weary, weary as no Ranger should be with a clear trail to follow. There is some will that lends speed to our enemies and sets an unseen barrier against us, a weariness that is more in heart than in limb."

"I believe that would be Saruman." Morgan interjected.

"Indeed." Aragorn said grimly, "But he shall not turn us back. We must halt once more. There is no light to follow the trail by."

The next morning Morgan was awoken by Legolas, who was saying, "It is a red dawn. Strange things await us by the eves of the forest. I do not know if it is good or evil, but we are called. Awake!"

They set off at once. They ran all that day. At night they slept, though there was a cold wind that blew from the Misty Mountains. The next day they continued. Morgan gazed out at the plains that seemed to go on forever. Suddenly she caught sight of something moving in the distance.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing.

Aragorn dropped to the ground, pressing his ear to the earth. Morgan jumped to Legolas' shoulder, knowing very well that he could see the horsemen.

"Riders!" Aragorn said, springing to his feet, "Many of them, coming towards us!"

"Yes." Legolas said, "There are one hundred and five of them. Yellow is their hair, and bright are their spears. Their leader is very tall."

"Shall we wait for them, or go on our way?" Gimli asked.

"We will wait for them." Aragorn replied, "I am weary, and our hunt has failed. These horsemen are riding back down the orc trail. Perhaps they will have news."

They sat and waited. Morgan curled up in Aragorn's lap, her head poking out from his cloak. Soon she caught the sound of hoof beats. Her good hear twitched. It sounded like there were a lot. There were also voices, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. After a while they came into view, riding double file at the base of the hill which the four were seated on. Their horses were tall and clean-limbed, with their manes braided. The riders were also tall and long-limbed. They wore long mail shirts and light helms from under which flowed pale gold hair. They wore swords and carried painted shields on their backs. Tall spears gleamed in the sunlight. Morgan made out three empty saddles. Interestingly enough, though some stood up in their stirrups and looked around, no one noticed them. It must be because of the elvish cloaks. When they had past she jumped up onto Aragorn's shoulder. He stood.

"What news from the north, Riders of Rohan?"

With astonishing speed the riders wheeled around and surrounded them. Morgan quickly took refuge in the hood of Aragorn's cloak. Heaven knows what they'd to if they saw her right off the bat.

"Who are you, and what are you doing in this land?" One of the riders demanded.

"I am called Strider." Aragorn answered, "I came out of the north. I am hunting orcs."

There was a small pause. "Strider is no name for a man to give. And strange too is your raiment. How did you escape our sight? Are you elvish folk?"

"Only one of us is an Elf, Legolas from the Woodland Realm in distant Mirkwood. But we have passed through Lothlórien, and the gifts and favor of the Lady go with us."

"Then there is a Lady of the Golden Wood, as the old tales tell! Few escape her nets, they say. These are strange days. But if you have her favor, then perhaps you are also sorcerers, maybe. Why do you not speak, silent ones?"

"Give me your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine, and more besides." Gimli almost growled.

"As for that, the stranger should declare himself first. Yet I am named Éomer son of Éomund, and am called Third Marshal of Riddermark."

Morgan almost squealed and jumped out, but barely managed to contain herself.

"Then, Éomer son of Éomund Third Marshal of Riddermark, let Gimli Glóin's son warn you against foolish words. You speak evil of that which is fair beyond the reach of your thought, and only little wit can excuse you."

"I would cut off your head, Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground." Éomer said, sounding angry.

"You would die before your stroke fell!" Legolas said.

Morgan could hear the ring of a sword being drawn. She waited a second before leaping from Aragorn's hood onto his shoulder.

"Oh my gosh it's Éomer!" she squealed, then proceeded to talk so fast no one could even hope to understand her. "Oh wow I think you are like totally awesome! You are so hot in the movie and I love how you almost kill Wormtongue because he was going after your sister and I really think it's awesome how you don't die in either the movie or the book. It was so cool how in the movie you threw a spear and killed the guy on the Oliphaunt and it took out another Oliphaunt but I don't know if it'll happen here. Oh wow you're so cool and I'm so glad I get to meet you!"

Everyone stared at Morgan, jaws almost on the ground. She looked down, sheepish.

"Sorry."

Éomer, who had hitherto had his sword raised to strike Gimli, lowered his blade and stared at her in amazement. "What are you? A talking squirrel, perhaps, out of the Golden Wood?"

Morgan's good ear twitched in annoyance at being called a squirrel, but she managed to keep it out of her voice. "Nope. I'm a Pachirisu, but you can call me Morgan. And I don't come from Lothlórien. My home's much farther away. By the way, I don't suppose you've seen a couple of hobbits lately. They're really short and might look like children, but they're not. There was a big band of orcs that carried them off. We've been chasing them for days now."

Éomer blinked a couple of times in surprise at being addressed in such a manner. "The orcs are no more. We slaughtered them during the night. We counted the slain and despoiled them, then piled the carcasses and burned them, as is our custom." He then turned his attention on Aragorn. "Tell me your right name and whom you serve."

"I serve no one." Aragorn answered, then in one swift movement he drew his sword. "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor. Here is the sword that was broken and is forged again."

"Time is pressing." one rider said, ignoring Aragorn.

"Peace, Éothain!" Éomer said, "Leave me a while. Tell the éored to assemble on the path, and make ready to ride to the Entwade."

Muttering, Éothain did as he was bidden.

"Tell me, lord," Éomer said, "What news have you of Boromir? Long has he been gone seeking answers, and his horse came back riderless."

"Boromir was in our company. He was slain by the same orcs you have destroyed."

"Great harm is his death to Minas Tirith and to us all!" Éomer cried, "When did he fall?"

"It is now the fourth day since he was slain." Aragorn answered solemnly, "Since the evening of that day we have journeyed from the shadow of Tol Brandir."

"On foot?"

"Even as you see us."

Éomer's eyes grew wide. "Strider is too poor a name for you, son of Arathorn. Wingfoot I name you. You have come forty five leagues."

"Do you pay tribute to Sauron?"

"We do not and we never have. Some years ago the Lord of the Black Land wished to purchase horses from us, but we refused, for he puts beasts to evil use. Then he sent plundering orcs to carry off what they can. But our chief concern is Saruman. He has taken orcs into his service and has closed the Gap against us. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man hooded and cloaked. His spies slip through every net, and I fear not all his friends dwell in Isengard. But if you will come to the king's house, you will see for yourself. Will you come?"

"I will come when I may, but our friends are not behind us, and therefore must be ahead. We will not stop searching for them yet."

Éomer seemed to take a moment to digest these words. "I will give you spare horses. All I ask is that you return to Meduseld with them."

Two horses were brought. A large gray one, Hasufel, was given to Aragorn. Legolas received a feisty white one named Arod. Gimli refused point blank to ride one, but was convinced to mount up behind Legolas.

"Farewell, and may you find what you seek!" Éomer said, "Return with what speed you may."

"I will come." Aragorn assured him.

"As will I." Gimli said, "The matter of the Lady Galadriel still lies between us. I have yet to teach you gentle speech."

"We shall see." Éomer said, "So many things have chanced that learning the praise of a lady under the loving strokes of a Dwarf's ax will seem no great wonder. Farewell!"

Morgan waved as they rode off. They'd see Éomer again. Unless something went horribly wrong, of course. Speaking of which, nothing had really gone wrong for a while, except Aragorn had missed the brooch. That was a little worrying. What was going to go wrong next? Hopefully not an ambush. That would get a little tricky. Where were Frodo and Sam at this point? Had they caught Gollum yet? Or had Gollum managed to kill them and take the Ring?

"For all our sakes, Sam, I hope you remembered that rope." she murmured.

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><p>I will try to update a little sooner this time, barring disaster. I do have a poll up, and if you vote it might encourage me to write faster. (hint hint)<p> 


	8. Nothing Like Looking

Ahem...about the updating sooner... My life blew up (figuratively) and it took a while to recover. Things have settled down, though, so I should hopefully be able to update more often (once again barring disaster). Anyway, here's the next chapter!

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><p>They rode along the trail the horsemen had ridden down, Aragorn's head beside Hasufel's neck as he kept his eyes on the trail. Morgan sat against the saddle horn, keeping an eye on the other side, though she would frequently glance up at the approaching trees or back at Legolas and Gimli. After a while Aragorn stopped, dismounted, and examined the ground.<p>

"The trail is confused with hoof prints." he said when he came back, "But there is no sign of anyone going east towards the Anduin. The orcs must have known at this point that they were being pursued. We must ride slower; they may have tried to get the captives away before they were overtaken."

The day became overcast as they rode on. There were no footprints leading left or right, but they did come across an orc now and then with a gray-feathered arrow in its neck or back. Afternoon was getting on when they came to the eves of the forest and the place where the Rohirrim had burned the slain orcs. The ashes were still hot and smoking. In the middle was an orc head impaled on a spear. Morgan shuddered and looked away. That was disgusting! Not far from the river was a mound covered with fresh-cut sod and ringed by fifteen spears. They looked all around, but by the time the sun set had found no trace of Merry or Pippin.

"We can do no more." Gimli said sadly, "I would guess that the burned bones of the hobbits are now mingled with the orcs'."

Morgan glared at him a little. "That's one thing I love about you, Gimli." she said sarcastically, "You're always so positive." In truth, she didn't like to see anyone upset, but if she told them that Merry and Pippin were safe with Treebeard they'd probably think she'd gone insane.

"In any case we must wait here for morning." Aragorn said.

They made camp a little ways away from the battlefield, under a tree that still had many of last year's brown leaves hanging from its branches that rattled in the night breeze. Morgan curled up, glad of her fur. Gimli shivered.

"Let us light a fire." he said, "I care no longer for the danger. Let the orcs come as thick as summer moths around a candle!"

"If those unhappy hobbits are astray in the woods, it might draw them here." Legolas added.

"And it might draw other things, neither orc nor hobbit." Aragorn said, "We are near the mountain-marches of the traitor Saruman and on the very edge of Fangorn. It is perilous to touch the trees of that wood, it is said."

"But the Rohirrim made a great burning here yesterday," Gimli pointed out, "and they felled trees for the fire. Yet they passed the night safely here."

Aragorn shook his head. "They were many, and they do not heed the wrath of Fangorn, for they come here seldom and do not go under the trees. But our paths are likely to lead into the very forest itself. So have a care, and cut no living wood!"

"There is no need. The riders have left chip and bough enough, and there is dead wood lying in plenty." Gimli went off to gather wood and soon had a small fire going. Morgan curled up close to it, vaguely hearing the others talk about Fangorn. Merry and Pippin should be with Treebeard by now. Where were Frodo and Sam? Had she made the right choice by going with Aragorn? Not that it would do much good to second guess herself. She was here whether she liked it or not. She had a feeling, though, that before this was over she'd end up helping Frodo and Sam. On this thought Morgan drifted off to sleep.

Morgan was awakened by Gimli suddenly jumping up. On the edge of the firelight was an old bent man, leaning on a staff and wearing a cloak and a wide-brimmed hat. The others also woke up.

"Well, father, what can we do for you?" Aragorn said after a moment, "Come and be warm, if you are cold." He got to his feet and strode forward, but the old man was gone. There was no trace of him. Morgan shuddered. That had been Saruman, right?

"The horses!" Legolas cried.

Morgan heard the sound of the horses neighing, then it became quiet. Great. Here they were, stuck on the edge of a possibly hostile forest with a the entire plain of Rohan in between them and any sort of ally. That had better have been Shadowfax causing the horses to run off and not Saruman, because if Saruman had stolen their horses Morgan would personally throttle him.

"Well, they are gone." Aragorn said at last, "We cannot find them or catch them, so if they do not return of their own will we must do without. We started on our feet, and we have them still."

"Feet!" huffed Gimli, "But we cannot eat them as well as walk on them." He threw some fuel on the fire and slumped down by it.

"Only a few hours ago you were unwilling to sit on one." Legolas laughed, "We will make a rider of you yet."

"It seems unlikely that you will have the chance." Gimli said, "If you wish to know what I think, I think it was Saruman. Who else? Remember the words of Éomer: he walks about like an old man hooded and cloaked. He has gone off with our horses, or scared them away. There is more trouble coming to us, mark my words!"

"I mark them," Aragorn said, "But I also marked that this old man had a hat, not a hood. Still, I do not doubt that you guess right, and that we are in peril here. But in the meantime there is nothing we can to now but rest. I will watch for a while now. I have more need of thought than sleep."

The next morning was chilly. Morgan woke to Legolas saying something about the horses sounding like they were greeting an old friend. Must be Shadowfax. With a yawn she got up and stretched. "Guess we'd better get looking." she muttered.

They began searching, starting near their campsite and spreading out. Morgan went with Aragorn. They eventually came to the ashes of a watch-fire near the bank of the river, then started going towards where the battle had been fought. Suddenly he stopped and bent low to the ground, face almost in the grass. Morgan saw what he was looking at: a large, broken, pale-gold leaf, now fading and turning brown. He called to the others, who came running up.

"Here at last we have news." he said, holding up the leaf, "Here is a mallorn-leaf of Lórien. There are crumbs on it, and a few more in the grass. And see! There are some pieces of cut cord lying nearby."

"And here is the knife that cut them!" Gimli pulled a short, jagged blade out of the grass. The handle was lying nearby. "It was an orc weapon."

Morgan looked at the handle and shuddered. It was shaped like a hideous head with squinting eyes and a leering mouth.

"Well, here is the strangest riddle yet!" Legolas exclaimed, "A bound prisoner escapes both from the orcs and from the surrounding horsemen. He then stops, while still in the open, and cuts his bonds with an orc knife. But how and why? For if his legs were tied, how did he walk? And if his arms were tied, how did he use the knife? And if neither were tied, why did he cut the cords at all? Being pleased with his skill, he then sat down and quietly ate some way-bread! That at least is enough to show that he was a hobbit, without the mallorn-leaf. After that, I suppose, he turned his arms into wings and flew away singing into the trees. It should be easy enough to find him: we only need wings ourselves!"

"There was sorcery here right enough." Gimli started.

"Really, Gimli?" Morgan interrupted, "Does everything have to be sorcery?"

Aragorn held up a hand, stopping the argument before it really began. "There are some other signs near at hand that you have not considered. I agree that the prisoner was was a hobbit and must have either hands or legs free, before he came here. I guess that it was his hands, because the riddle then becomes easier, and also because, as I read the marks, he was carried to this point by an orc. Orc blood was spilled there, a few paces away. There are deep hoof prints all around this spot and signs of something heavy being dragged away. The orc was slain by horsemen, and later his body was hauled to the fire. But the hobbit was not "in the open", for it was night and he still had his elven cloak. He was exhausted and hungry, and it is no wonder that when he had cut his bonds with the knife of his fallen enemy, he rested and ate a little before he crept away. But it is a comfort to know that he had some lembas in his pocket, even though he ran away without his gear or pack. That, perhaps, is like a hobbit. I say he, though I hope and guess that both Merry and Pippin were here together. There is, however, nothing to show that for certain."

"And how do you suppose that either of our friends came to have a hand free?" Gimli asked.

"I do not know how it happened, nor do I know why an orc was carrying them away. It is probably as Morgan said. Their orders were to capture the hobbits alive, at all costs. An attempt to slip out with the precious prisoners before the battle was made. Treachery perhaps, likely enough with such folk. Some large and bold orc may have been trying to escape with the prize alone for his own ends. That is my tale. Others might be devised. But on this we may count in any case: at least one of our friends escaped. It is our task to find him before we return to Rohan. We must not be daunted by Fangorn, since need drove him into that dark place."

"I do not know which daunts me more," Gimli said, "Fangorn, or the thought of the long road through Rohan on foot."

"Then let's quit yappin' and head for the forest." Morgan said, hopping onto Aragorn's shoulder.

They entered the forest. At one point Aragorn found footprints by the bank of the Entwash. They were hobbit prints, but they were too light for much to be made of them. Morgan could hear Legolas and Gimli talking behind her, but ignored them for the most part. The air of the forest seemed tense, like something was about to happen. The march of the Ents, most likely. The floor of the forest was dry and covered with dead leaves, leaving no sign of footprints. They stayed by the edge of the stream, guessing that the fugitives would do the same. After a while they found two clear sets of footprints, one smaller than the other.

"This is good tidings." Aragorn said, "Yet the marks are two days old. And it seems at this point the hobbits left the water-side."

"Then what shall we do now?" Gimli asked, "We cannot pursue them through the whole fastness of Fangorn. We have come ill supplied. If we do not find them soon, we shall be of no use to them, except to sit down beside them and show our friendship by starving together."

"If that is all we can do, then we must do that." Aragorn said. Morgan prayed that Treebeard had found Merry and Pippin like he was supposed to, because starving to death did not sound like the most fun thing to do. They continued on, eventually coming to a hill of sorts, with a steep rocky wall and rough steps leading to the top. Sunlight was striking through the hurrying clouds, and the forest now looked less gloomy.

"Let us go up and look around!" Legolas said, "I should like to taste a freer air for a while."

They began climbing the steps. Aragorn came last, scanning the steps and ledges closely.

"I am almost sure that the hobbits have been up here." she said, "But there are other marks, very strange marks, which I do not understand."

They made it to the top and looked around. The Misty Mountains rose to the west, and below them the forest descended to the plains of Rohan from whence they had come. They stayed there for several minutes. All the while Morgan stared into the trees, looking for any sign of movement. Gandalf would come, wouldn't he?

"There is nothing to show which way they went." Aragorn said at last, "Let us go down."

"Wait a minute." Morgan said, still peering into the trees. Gandalf had to come. Because if he didn't, it meant that either their timing was off, or he was dead, and if Gandalf was dead, so were they.

"What are we waiting for?" Legolas asked after a minute or so. Morgan waved him to silence. After a moment she spotted movement in the trees.

"Look, down there." she pointed at the figure that was now heading towards them.

"I see." Legolas said after a moment. "There is an old man in gray rags, bent and leaning on a staff."

The old man quickened his pace, and was soon at the base of the rock wall. He looked up, but they could not see his face, as he wore a hood and a wide-brimmed hat. All that could be made out was the end of his nose and his gray beard. Yep, that had to be Gandalf.

"Well met, indeed, my friends." the old man said in a soft voice, "I wish to speak to you. Will you come down, or shall I climb up?" Without waiting for an answer he started climbing.

"It is Saruman!" Gimli hissed, "Legolas, your bow! Do not let him put a spell on us!"

"Did I not say that I wished to speak with you?" the old man said, "Put away that bow, Master Elf!"

The bow fell from Legolas' hand.

"And you, master Dwarf, pray take your hand from your ax-haft, till I am up! You will not need such arguments."

Gimli stood as still as stone. The old man sprang up the steps as nimbly as a mountain goat. For an instant there was a gleam of white from underneath the gray rags, which was quickly hidden again. Then the he was standing before them.

Well met, I say again!" he said, "And what may you be doing in these parts? And Elf, a Man, and a Dwarf, all clad in elvish fashion, not to mention a strange creature that resembles a squirrel. No doubt there is a tale worth hearing behind it all."

It was dead silent. The old man chuckled a little.

"There are some who would begin to doubt whether your errand is fit to tell. Happily I know something of it. You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits, I believe. Yes, hobbits. Don't stare as if you had never heard the word. You have, and so have I. They climbed up here the day before yesterday, and they met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you? And now you would like to know where they have been taken? Well, well, maybe I can give you some news about that. But why are we standing? Your errand, you see, is no longer as urgent as you thought. Let us sit down and be more at ease."

He turned and went towards a heap of fallen stones and rock at the foot of the cliff behind. Immediately, as if a spell had been broken, the others moved. Gimli took out his ax, Aragorn drew his sword, and Legolas picked up his bow. The old man took no notice, but sat down on a low flat stone. His gray cloak drew apart, and it was obvious that beneath he was clothed all in white.

"Saruman!" Gimli cried, "Speak! Tell us where you have hidden our friends! What have you done with them? Speak, or I will make a dent in your hat that even a wizard will find hard to deal with!"

The old man leaped onto the rock, suddenly tall and towering before them. Gimli's ax flew out of his hands. Aragorn's sword blazed with fire, and he dropped it. Legolas shot an arrow high into the air, which vanished in a flash of flame. Then the old man turned to Morgan, who had been glaring at him for the entire time.

"And what say you?"

"You're late." Morgan said curtly. Everyone stared at her.

"Come again?" the old man asked, clearly as confused as the others.

"You're late. And don't give me any of that 'a wizard is never late' junk, either. You were so totally late."

Everyone stared at her for a moment longer. Then the old man laughed and cast away his cloak and hat. His robe was as white as snow in the sunshine, and his hair was as white as his robes. His piercing eyes seemed to smile.

"Mithrandir!" Legolas cried.

"Well met, I say to you again, Legolas!" the old man said.

There was a long pause, then Aragorn said, "Gandalf! Beyond all hope you return to us in our time of need."

"Gandalf." the old man repeated, as if recalling a long disused word, "Yes, that was my name." He stepped down from the rock and wrapped his cloak around him, veiling the shining white of his garments. "You may still call be Gandalf. Be merry! We meet again, at the turn of the tide. Tell me of yourselves!"

Morgan half-listened as they talked. Gandalf had come, so she didn't have to worry about that anymore. But without that to think about, she began thinking about home. Consequently, she became homesick. Extremely homesick. It actually almost made her physically ill. Would she ever be able to go home? Being here was great and all, but right now all she wanted was a hot shower and to sleep in her own bed and to eat with her family.

She suddenly snapped out of her gloomy thoughts when she heard Gandalf recite, "Lockbearer, wherever thou goest my thought goes with thee. But have a care to lay thine ax to the right tree!"

"In a happy hour you have returned to use, Gandalf!" Gimli said, dancing around. Gandalf turned to Morgan.

"The Lady Galadriel also sent a message to you, Morgan."

"She did?" Morgan asked. She was _not _expecting that. Gandalf nodded.

"Wonder not why thou art here,

E'en though thy paths are dark and drear.

Worry not what fate will send.

Thou shalt see home before the end."

"Huh. Guess I should stop worrying about it, then." Morgan smiled and hopped onto Aragorn's shoulder. "On to Edoras!"

Gandalf stood and picked up his staff, and they left the forest. Their horses were nowhere to be seen.

"They have not returned." Legolas said, "It will be a weary walk."

"I shall not walk. Time presses." Gandalf said, then let out a piercing whistle. After a while Morgan could hear hoof beats. Three horses came into view: Arod, Hasufel, and a magnificent silvery-gray one that must be Shadowfax in the lead. Shadowfax came striding up the slope, leaving the others far behind, and nuzzled Gandalf.

"It is a long way from Rivendell, my friend." he said, stroking Shadowfax's neck, "But you are wise and swift to come at need." At length the other horses came up, and he addressed them as well. "Time presses, so with your leave, my friends, we will ride. We go at once to Meduseld, the hall of your master, Théoden."

Morgan hopped onto Hasufel. After a little more talking, mainly about Shadowfax, the others mounted, and they rode as quickly as Arod and Hasufel could go. The sun sank towards the west, finally reaching the horizon and looking like a red fire sinking into the grass. A smoke seemed to darken it to blood-red.

"There lies the Gap of Rohan." Gandalf said, "It is now almost due west of us. That way lies Isengard."

Legolas peered in that direction. "I see a great smoke. What may that be?"

"Battle and war." Gandalf answered, "Ride on!"

As they rode through the dusk, Morgan smiled to herself. The worst that had happened was that Gandalf had almost been late, and Galadriel had said she would see home again. All was well. For now.

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><p>OK, I really will try to update sooner, promise. Nothing's going on for a while, so unless I have a terrible case of writer's block (not much of a possibility with all the ideas floating around my head) I will update in less than a month. Review if you so desire!<p> 


	9. Of Old Men and Golden Halls

Yeah, um, about the updating sooner...The time I thought I'd have I actually didn't have, plus I got sick. The way life's going now, I can't make any promises about when I'm going to update next. The next chapter will most likely be a short one, so I'm hoping sooner than this one was. OK, enough excuses. On with the story!

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><p>They rode through the night, stopping for a few hour's rest. As dawn began creeping into the world a bitter wind sprang up from the east. The sky lightened, and the sun rose. The White Mountains rose up before them, snow-capped peaks turned rose and gold. Valleys and vales wound at their feet, still untouched by the dawn. There was a particularly large gulf from whence a stream issued. A large hill, surrounded by a dike and fence, stood where the stream came out from the shadows. It was covered in houses, and Morgan could see a glimpse of gold at the top. That must be Meduseld. What exactly should she do once they got there? Riding on Aragorn's shoulder might not be the best idea. Maybe she should hide in his hood again.<p>

Draw no weapon, speak no haughty word, I counsel you all, until we come before Théoden's seat." Gandalf was saying, "And Morgan, it might be wise for you to hide."

"Gotcha." Morgan darted into Aragorn's hood, and they went on. Morgan began fidgeting. She hated sitting still. Occasionally she would poke her head out to look at the retreating plains. To the east was the stream that ran down from the hill. Willows grew by it, turning red at the tips. At the foot of the hill were many mounds covered in grass with a thick layer of white flowers on the west side.

"Look!" Gandalf said, "How fair are the bright eyes in the grass! Evermind they are called, simbelmynë in this land of Men, for they blossom in all the seasons of the year, and grow where dead men rest. Behold! We are come to the great barrows where the sires of Théoden sleep."

Morgan counted seven mounds on the left and nine on the right as they passed them. Sixteen generations. That was a long time. They reached the gates, and Morgan retreated into Aragorn's hood. Someone said something in a language Morgan couldn't understand. She mentally sighed. Why couldn't they talk like everyone else so she'd know what was going on? Gandalf joined in at some point, and Morgan heard him mention their names, excluding her's, of course. There were footsteps, which she assumed was one of the guards leaving. After a short while the footsteps returned, and there was some more talking. The gates creaked open, and they rode for what felt like forever until they reached what must have been the Hall of Meduseld.

"I am the Doorward of Théoden." someone (finally) said in Common Speech, "Háma is my name. Here I must bid you lay aside your weapons before you enter."

Aragorn didn't move. "It is not my will to put aside my sword or to deliver Andúril to the hand of any other man."

"It is the will of Théoden."

"It is not clear to me that the will of Théoden son of Thengel, even though he be lord of the Mark, should prevail over the will of Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elendil's heir of Gondor."

"This is the house of Théoden, not of Aragorn, even were he King of Gondor in the seat of Denethor."

"Aragorn, just put your stupid sword down or else we'll be here all day." Morgan hissed.

Slowly, Aragorn took of his sword and leaned it against the wall. The others did the same, except Gandalf's staff.

"Your staff." Háma said, "Forgive me, but that too must be left at the doors."

"Foolishness!" Gandalf said, "Prudence is one thing, but discourtesy is another. I am old. If I may not lean on my stick as I go, then I will sit out here until it pleases Théoden to hobble out himself to speak to me."

Aragorn laughed. "Every man has something too dear to trust to another. But would you part an old man with his support? Come, will you not let us enter?"

"The staff in the hands of a wizard may be more than a prop for age." Háma said, "Yet in doubt a man of worth will trust to his own wisdom. I believe you are friends and folk worthy of honor, who have no evil purpose. You may go in."

The doors opened, and they entered. From what Morgan could see, which was pretty much the ceiling and nothing else, it was dark in the hall, with light coming in from high windows. Pillars held up the tall roof, and she thought she caught a glimmer of gold on the ceiling. They came to a halt, and there was a long pause before Gandalf spoke.

"Hail, Théoden son of Thengel! I have returned. For behold! The storm comes, and now all friends should gather together, lest each singly be destroyed."

"I greet you." a voice that was dry and old, though at one point must have been quite powerful, spoke, "and maybe you look here for welcome. But truth tell your welcome is doubtful here, Master Gandalf. You have ever been a herald of woe. Troubles follow you like crows, and ever oftener the worse. I will not deceive you: when I heard that Shadowfax had come back riderless, I rejoiced at the return of the horse, but still more at the lack of the rider. When Éomer brought tidings that you had gone to your long home, I did not mourn. But news from afar is seldom sooth. Here you come again! And with you come evils worse than before, as might be expected. Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow? Tell me that."

"You speak justly, my lord." The new voice was smooth and oily and sent shivers down Morgan's spine. That definitely had to be Wormtongue! "It is not yet five days since the bitter tidings came that Théodred your son was slain upon the West Marches: your right hand, the Second Marshal of the Mark. In Éomer there is little trust. Few men would be left to guard your walls, if he had been allowed to rule. And even now we learn from Gondor that the Dark Lord is stirring in the east. Such is the hour in which this wanderer chooses it return. Why indeed should we welcome you, Mater Stormcrow? _L__á__thspell_ I name you, Ill-news; and ill news is and ill guest, they say."

"You are held wise, my friend Wormtongue," Gandalf answered in a soft voice, "and are doubtless a great support to your master. Yet in two ways can a man come with evil tidings. He may be a worker of evil, or he may be such as leaves well alone, and comes only to bring aid in time of need."

"That is so," Wormtongue said, "but there is a third kind: pickers of bones, meddlers in other men's sorrows, carrion fowl that grow fat on war. And what aid do you bring now? It was aid from us that you sought last time. Then my lord bade you choose any horse that you would be gone; and to the wonder of all you took Shadowfax in your insolence. My lord was sorely grieved; yet to some it seemed that the speed you from this land the price was not too great. I guess that it is likely to turn out the same once more: you will seek aid rather than render it. Do you bring men? Do you bring horses, swords, spears? That I would call aid; that is our present need. But who are these that follow at your tail? Three ragged wanderers in gray, and you yourself the most beggar-like of the four!"

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden son of Thengel." Gandalf said, "Has not the messenger from your gate reported the names of my companions? Seldom has any lord of Rohan received three such guests. Weapons they have laid at your doors that are worth many a mortal man, even the mightiest. Gray is their raiment, for the Elves clad them, and thus they have passed through the shadow of great perils to your hall."

"Then it is true, as Éomer reported, that you are in league with the Sorceress of the Golden Wood?" Morgan heard the sound of many feet, the clinking of armor, and the chilling sound of swords being drawn. "Kill them."

_That_ didn't happen in either the movie or the book. Morgan burst from Aragorn's hood and stood on his shoulder.

"Hold on just a second!" she exclaimed as she took stock of the situation. They were surrounded by soldiers. In front of them sat a man, gray-haired and bent, wearing a crown and holding onto a black cane with a bone handle. That must be Théoden. Behind him stood a tall golden-haired woman who was dressed white. Éowyn, most likely. Standing in front of the throne was a short, pale man with hooded eyes and black clothes. Since several of the soldiers were looking at him, Morgan guessed he was Wormtongue.

"A squirrel?" one of the soldiers who formed a ring around them said. Morgan glared at him a second before turning to Wormtongue.

"What the heck do you mean, "kill them"? You so did not say that!"

"Am I to be defied by a squirrel?" Wormtongue hissed.

If looks could kill Wormtongue would have been reduced to a neat little pile of ashes in a matter of seconds. "Call me a squirrel again and I will personally rip your face off." Morgan shot back.

"That may not have been the wisest course of action, Morgan." Aragorn muttered.

"Start with the squirrel." Wormtongue ordered.

Morgan's electric burst sent him head over heels. The soldiers looked at each other nervously.

"A squirrel that can summon lightning?" one soldier whispered as they backed up.

"Did you kill him?" Aragorn whispered.

"No." Morgan whispered back, "At least, I don't think so."

"A pity." Gimli muttered behind them.

Meanwhile, Gandalf was standing with his eyes closed, hand stretched towards the king. He stood in silence for a few moments before saying, "Morgan, I need your assistance."

Morgan hopped onto his shoulder. "What can I do?"

"I need you to use your powers on the king." Gandalf answered, eyes still closed.

"W-wait, you mean shock him?"

Gandalf nodded.

"Alrighty, one dose of electroshock therapy coming up." Morgan let loose the weakest shock she could. Éowyn rushed forward, but Aragorn intercepted her.

"Wait, my lady." he said softly.

"Again." Gandalf said, "Stronger this time."

"Um...OK." Morgan gave this one a little more power, but it still didn't do much.

"More."

Morgan let loose a blast that was almost as strong as the one she had used on Wormtongue. When she was finished the king slumped over in his chair.

"Oh my gosh I killed King Théoden!" Morgan cried, panic-stricken, "Oh my gosh I killed him oh my gosh oh my gosh I'm so sorry oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!"

"What have you done to him, demon squirrel?" a soldier demanded, readying his sword.

The king stirred, then sat up. Morgan let out a long sigh of relief.

"What kind of squirrel is that that sits on your shoulder?" Théoden asked Gandalf. Morgan bristled.

"OK, I've been called a squirrel, like, five times already. Next one to call me that gets hurt."

"Then what shall I call you?" the king asked with amusement.

"Oh, er, uh, Morgan, um, er, your, uh, highness." Morgan said, blushing a little in embarrassment. The king's lips curved upward.

"I bid you come out before your doors and look abroad." Gandalf said, gesturing to the doors, "Too long have you sat in the shadows and trusted crooked promptings."

Slowly Théoden stood. Éowyn rushed to his side and took his arm, helping him down the steps. They came to the doors and Gandalf hit them with his staff.

"Open! The Lord of the Mark comes forth!"

The doors opened and the wind came whistling in, keen and refreshing. The guards stared in amazement, both at their king and at Morgan.

"Send your guards down to the stairs' foot." Gandalf said, then turned to Éowyn. "And you, lady, leave him a while with me. I will care for him."

"Go, Éowyn sister-daughter! The time to fear is past."

Éowyn turned and went slowly into the hall. As she passed the doors she stopped and looked back. She and Aragorn looked at each other for a moment, then she turned and left.

"Now, lord," Gandalf said, "look out upon your land. Breathe the free air!"

Morgan hopped onto Aragorn's shoulder, curled up as best she could, and took a nap.

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><p>Again, I make no promises about the next update, but I'm really hoping it'll be quicker this time. Reviews help! :)<p> 


	10. The King's Decision

Wow, I am really bad at updating in a timely fashion. Of course, I was kicked out of where I lived because the heating system was dying, so I think that little mess should count for something. Regardless, here's the next chapter!

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><p>"Arise now, Riders of Théoden!<p>

Dire deeds awake, dark is it eastward!

Let horses be bridled, horn be sounded!

Forth Eorlingas!"

"What the..." Morgan nearly tumbled from her precarious perch on Aragorn's shoulder as she jerked awake. Théoden was holding a sword aloft, looking much better than when she had first seen him. Éomer was kneeling at his feet. "Oh, hi Éomer." Morgan said, stretching.

"It is good to see you again, Morgan." Éomer said as he stood, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Take back your sword, Éomer, sister-son!" King Théoden said, "Go, Háma, and seek my own sword. Gríma has it in his keeping. Bring him to me also. Now, Gandalf, you said that you had counsel to give, if I would hear it. What is your counsel?"

"You have yourself already taken it." Gandalf answered, "To put your trust in Éomer, rather than a man of crooked mind. To do the deed at hand. Every man who can ride should be sent west at once, as Éomer counseled you. We must first destroy the threat of Saruman, while we have time. Meanwhile your people that are left, the women and children and the old, should fly to the refuges that you have in the mountains."

"This counsel seems good to me now. Let all my folk get ready! But you are my guests. Truly you said, Gandalf, that the courtesy of my hall is lessened. You have ridden through the night, and the morning wears away. You have had neither sleep nor food. A guest-house shall be made ready for you. There you shall sleep, once you have eaten."

Morgan perked up at the prospect of a meal and sleep, but Aragorn deflated her by saying,

"Nay, lord. There is no rest for the weary. The men of Rohan must ride forth today, and we will ride with them, ax, sword, and bow. We did not bring them to rest against your wall, Lord of the Mark. And I promised Éomer that my sword and his should be drawn together."

"Now indeed there is hope of victory!" Éomer cried.

"But no hope of food and some sleep." Morgan muttered under her breath.

"Hope, yes." Gandalf said, "But Isengard is strong. And other perils draw ever nearer. Do not delay, Théoden, when we are gone. Lead your people swiftly to the Hold of Dunharrow in the hills!"

"Nay, Gandalf!" Théoden cried, "You do not know your own skill in healing. I myself will go to war, to fall in the front of battle if it must be. Thus shall I sleep better."

"But your people must not be both unarmed and shepherd-less." Gandalf pointed out, "Who shall guide them and govern them in your place?"

"I will take thought for that ere I go. Here comes my counselor."

Háma came out of the hall, with Wormtongue cringing between two other guards behind him. He knelt in front of the king and presented him with a long sword in a scabbard, clasped with gold and set with green gems.

"Here, lord, is Herugrim, your ancient blade." Háma said, "It was found in his chest. Loth was he to render up the keys. Many other things there are which men have missed."

"You lie!" Wormtongue hissed, "And this sword your master himself gave into my keeping."

"And now requires it of you again." Théoden said, "Does that displease you?"

"Assuredly not, lord." Wormtongue replied, "I care for you and yours as best I may. But do not weary yourself, or tax too heavily your strength. Let others deal with these irksome guests." He threw a particularly nasty glare at Morgan, "Your meat is about to be set on the board. Will you not go to it?"

"I will. And let food for my guests be set out also." Théoden said. Morgan almost jumped for joy. "The host rides today. Send the heralds forth! Let them summon all who dwell nigh! Every man and strong lad able to bear arms, all who have horses, let them be ready in the saddle at the gate ere the second hour from noon!"

"Dear lord! It is as I feared. This wizard has bewitched you. Are there none to be left to defend the Golden Hall of your fathers, and all your treasure? None to guard the Lord of the Mark?"

"If this is bewitchment it seems more wholesome than your whisperings. Your leechcraft would have had me walking on all fours like a beast. No, not one will be left, not even Gríma. Gríma shall ride, too. Go! You still have time to clean the rust from your sword."

"Mercy, lord!" Wormtongue whined, grovelling at the king's feet, "Have pity on one worn out in your service. Send me not from your side! I at least will stand by you when all others have gone. Do not send faithful Gríma away!"

"You have my pity." Théoden said, seemingly unfazed by Gríma's begging, "And I do not send you from my side. I go myself to war with my men. I bid you come with me and prove your faith."

Wormtongue looked from face to face, like some animal looking for a way out. "Hear me at least in this lord! One who knows your mind and honors your commands should be left in Edoras. Appoint a faithful steward. Let your counselor Gríma keep all things till your return."

Éomer laughed. "And if that plea does not excuse you from war, most noble Wormtongue, what office of less honor would you accept? To carry a sack of meal up into the mountains, if any man would trust you with it?"

"Nay, Éomer," Gandalf said, turning his piercing gaze on him, "you do not fully understand the mind of Master Wormtongue. He is bold and cunning. Even now he plays a game with peril and wins a throw. Hours of my precious time he has wasted already. Down, snake!" he suddenly cried in a terrible voice as he turned to Wormtongue, "Down on your belly! How long is it since Saruman bought you? What was the promised price? When all the men were dead, you were to pick your share of the treasure, and take the woman you desire? Too long have you watched her under your eyelids and haunted her steps."

"That I knew already." Éomer muttered as he grasped his sword, "For that reason I would have slain him before, forgetting the law of the hall. But there are other reasons." He started towards Wormtongue. When Gandalf didn't stop him Morgan jumped onto his shoulder.

"Calm down, Éomer. Éowyn's safe now."

Éomer hesitated a moment, then stepped back, releasing his grip on his sword.

"You, Wormtongue, have done what you could for your true master." Gandalf said, "Some reward you have earned at least. Yet Saruman is apt to overlook his bargains. I should advise you to go quickly and remind him, lest he forget your faithful service."

"You lie." Wormtongue hissed.

"Those words come too oft and easily from your lips. I do not lie. See, Théoden, here is a snake! With safety you cannot take it with you, nor can you leave it behind. To slay it would be just. But it was not always as it now is. Once it was a man, and did you service in its fashion. Give him a horse and let him go at once, wherever he chooses. By his choice you shall judge him."

"Do you hear this, Wormtongue?" Théoden asked, "This is your choice: ride out with me to war, and let us see in battle whether you are true, or go now, whither you will. But then, if ever we meet again, I shall not be merciful."

Wormtongue slowly rose and scanned their faces, last of all Théoden's. He opened his mouth as if to speak. Then he suddenly drew himself up. His hands worked and his eyes glittered with such malice that men stepped back from him. He bared his teeth, then leaped at Théoden, drawing a knife from his belt as he did so. Electricity arced from Morgan to him, flinging him back. He got up again, breathing heavily and clutching his knife. Morgan leaped from Éomer's shoulder and landed between him and the king.

"Back off, bozo." she growled as sparks of electricity danced on her cheeks. Wormtongue glared at her, then turned and ran down the stairs.

"After him!" Théoden said to the guards, "See that he does no harm to any, but do not hurt or hinder him. Give him a horse, if he wishes it."

"And if any will bear him." Éomer muttered.

Several of the guards went after Wormtongue. Théoden watched until they were out of sight, then bowed slightly to Morgan.

"Twice now you have saved me, Morgan. I am deeply grateful."

"Glad to be of service." Morgan replied as she hopped back onto Aragorn's shoulder.

"Now my guests, come!" Théoden said, "Come and take such refreshment as haste allows."

"Yes!" Morgan said as they entered the hall once again. In the town below them they could hear horns blowing and heralds crying. At the king's table they were seated, while Éowyn waited on them. Morgan, obviously too small to sit in a chair, sat on the table in between Aragorn and Gandalf, a small plate and cup which could have belonged to a child's set placed before her. Eagerly she dug in, all the while listening to Théoden questioning Gandalf about Saruman.

"How far back his treachery goes, who can guess?" Gandalf was saying, "He was not always evil. Once I do not doubt that he was the friend of Rohan, and even when his heart grew colder he found you useful still. But for long now he has plotted your ruin, wearing the mask of friendship, until he was ready. In those years Wormtongue's task was easy, and all that you did was swiftly known in Isengard; for your land was open, and strangers came and went. And ever Wormtongue's whispering was in your ears, poisoning your thought, chilling your heart, weakening your limbs, while others watched and could do nothing, for your will was in his keeping.

"But when I escaped and warned you, the mask was torn, for those who would see. After that Wormtongue played dangerously, always seeking to delay you, to prevent your full strength being gathered. He was crafty: dulling men's wariness, or working on their fears, as served the occasion. Do you not remember how eagerly he urged that no man should be spared on a wild goose chase northward, when the immediate peril was westward? He persuaded you to forbid Éomer to pursue the raiding Orcs. If Éomer had not defied you, those Orcs would have reached Isengard by now, bearing a great prize. Not the prize which Saruman desires above all else, but at the least two members of my company, sharers of a secret hope of which even to you, lord, I cannot yet speak openly. Dare you think of what they might now be suffering, or what Saruman might now have learned to our destruction?"

"I owe much to Éomer." Théoden said, "Faithful heart may have forward tongue."

"Say also that to crooked eyes truth may wear a wry face."

"Indeed, my eyes were almost blind. Most of all I owe you, my guest. Once again you have come in time. I would give you a gift ere we go, at your own choosing. You have only to name aught that is mine. I reserve now only my sword!"

"Whether I came in time or not is yet to be seen. But as for your gift, lord, I will choose one that will fit my need. Give me Shadowfax! He was only lent before, if loan we may call it. But now I shall ride him into great hazard, setting silver against black: I would not risk anything that is not my own. And already there is a bond of love between us."

"You choose well, and I give him now gladly. Yet it is a great gift. There is none like to Shadowfax. In him one of the mighty steeds of old has returned. None such shall return again." He suddenly turned to Morgan. "You, Morgan, I know with a surety have come in time, and have saved my life twice. Ask for what you will!"

Morgan froze for a moment, startled by the abrupt change, then thought. "Um...I can't think of anything I need."

"But surely there is something you desire?"

"Uh..." Morgan took a minute to run through everything she might need or want. A horse would be pointless, and she highly doubted there were any weapons or armor in Théoden's armory that would work for her. To go back home would be nice, but he definitely couldn't do that. There was nothing she needed or wanted that the king could provide. "Nope. Nothing comes to mind."

Théoden's eyebrows rose. "Indeed? Would you accept my offer of friendship, at the very least?"

"Oh yeah, most definitely!"

This brought a smile smile to the king's lips. "I am glad. And to you my other guests I will offer such things as may be found in my armory. Swords you do not need, but there are helms and coats of mail of cunning work, gifts to my fathers out of Gondor. Choose from these ere we go, and may they serve you well!"

The command was given, and soldiers came bearing various pieces of armor. Aragorn and Legolas were arrayed in shining mail and helms and given round shields decorated with gold and gems. Gimli had no need of chain mail, since he already had his, but he took a cap of leather and iron, as well as a small shield that bore the emblem of the House of Eorl, a white horse running on a green background.

"May it keep you well!" Théoden said when he saw Gimli's choice of shields, "It was made for me in Thengel's day, while I was still a boy."

Gimli bowed. "I am proud, Lord of the Mark, to bear your device. Indeed sooner would I bear a horse than be borne by one. I love my feet better. But, maybe, I shall come yet where I can stand and fight."

"It may well be so."

Gandalf took no armor, and there was none that would come even remotely close to fitting Morgan. She was fine with this, though. Her strength lay with speed, plus the fact that she could shoot electricity. Would she electrocute herself if she wore a lot of metal?

Théoden rose, and at once Éowyn came forward with a large goblet.

_"Ferthu Théoden h__á__l!"_ she said, "Receive now this cup and drink in happy hour. Health be with thee at thy coming and going!"

Théoden drank from the cup, and she proffered it to the others in turn. As she stood in front of Aragorn she paused suddenly. Morgan, from her position on Aragorn's shoulder, noticed that Éowyn's eyes were shining. As she handed the cup to Aragorn her hands trembled slightly.

"Hail Aragorn son of Arathorn!" she said.

"Hail Lady of Rohan!" Aragorn replied before taking a sip.

When everyone had drunk Théoden went to the doors. Outside the guards awaited him, as well as some men who looked like lords and chiefs.

"Behold!" Théoden said, "I go forth, and it seems like to be my last riding. I have no child. Théodred my son is slain. I name Éomer my sister-son to be my heir. If neither of us return, then choose a new lord as you will. But to some one I must now entrust my people that I leave behind, to rule them in my place. Which of you will stay?"

No one spoke.

"Is there none whom you would name? In whom do my people trust?"

"In the House of Eorl." Háma answered.

"But Éomer I cannot spare, nor would he stay, and he is the last of that House."

"I said not Éomer," Háma answered, "and he is not the last. There is Éowyn, daughter of Éomund, his sister. She is fearless and high-hearted. All love her. Let her be as lord to the Eorlingas, while we are gone."

"Good idea, Háma." Morgan muttered.

"It shall be so." the king said, "Let the heralds announce to the folk that the Lady Éowyn will lead them!"

He then sat on a seat in front of his doors, and Éowyn knelt before him. He gave her a sword and a corslet, which was like a breastplate with a chain-mail back.

"Farewell, sister-daughter!" Théoden said, "Dark is the hour, yet maybe we shall return to the Golden Hall. But in Dunharrow the people may long defend themselves, and of the battle go ill, thither will come all who escape!"

"Speak not so!" Éowyn answered, "A year shall I endure for every day that passes until you return." Morgan noticed that her eyes strayed to Aragorn as she said it.

"Don't worry, the king will get home in one piece." Morgan assured her.

The king went down the stairs, and the others followed. Aragorn looked back, and Morgan looked back also. Éowyn stood before the doors of the house at the top of the stairs. The sword was set upright before her and her hands rested on the hilt. Her armor shone silver in the sun. Morgan waved, then turned her attention to the gates they were approaching. A host of men, old and young, were gathered there, all ready in the saddle. They shouted joyously as Théoden approached. Aragorn mounted Hasufel and rode close to the king. Morgan saw Gimli behind Éomer. That was an interesting sight. Gandalf whistled, and her attention was drawn back to what was happening in front of her. Shadowfax was galloping towards them, stopping in front of Gandalf.

"The gift seems already given," Théoden said, "But hearken all! Here now I name my guest, Gandalf Greyhame, wisest of all councilors, most welcome of wanderers, a lord of the Mark, a chieftain of the Eorlingas while our kin shall last, and I give unto him Shadowfax, the prince of horses."

"I thank you, Théoden King." Gandalf said. He suddenly threw back his gray cloak, tossed his hat away, and leaped onto Shadowfax. His snowy hair flew free in the wind and his white robes shone dazzling in the sun.

"Behold the White Rider!" Aragorn cried, and the host took up his words.

"Our King and the White Rider!" the shouted, "Forth Eorlingas!"

The trumpets sounded. The horses reared and neighed. Spear clashed on shield. Then the king raised his hand, and the host rode off, thundering into the west.

"And we're off!" Morgan said before turning back and saluting the lone figure that stood in front of the doors of the silent house.

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><p>Sorry if it's really bookish. The next chapter will involve fighting, though, so stay tuned!<p>

Oh, I am thinking about starting a sequel after finishing this. It will be a Pokemon-How to Train Your Dragon crossover staring everyone's favorite hyperactive Pachirisu. Yes? No? Don't care? Review and tell me!


	11. Helm's Deep

Oh my gosh, a new chapter in less than a month! Yeah, it surprised me, too. I watched the second movie and got inspired. So without further adieu, the next chapter!

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><p>The host rode quickly, afraid they might already be too late. That night they made camp without fires. Mounted guards ringed the camp, and scouts rode far ahead. Nothing happened that night, and at dawn the horns sounded. They were riding again in less than an hour. By noon Morgan was thoroughly sick of riding, but she bit her tongue and tried to divert her attention by looking at the landscape, watching the riders nearest to her, or pulling faces at Gimli.<p>

As the sun was setting a horseman was spotted approaching them. They stopped and waited for him. When he was close Morgan could see that he was exhausted, and his helm and shield were battered. Slowly he dismounted and stood before them, gasping.

"Is Éomer here?" he said at last, "You come at last, but too late, and with too little strength. Things have gone evilly since Théoden fell. We were driven back yesterday over the Isen with great loss. Many perished at the crossing. Then at night fresh forces came over the river against our camp. All of Isengard must be emptied; Saruman has armed the wild hillmen and herdfolk of Dunland beyond the rivers, and these also he loosed upon us. We were overmastered. The shield-wall was broken. Erkenbrand of Westfold has drawn off those men he could gather towards his fastness in Helm's Deep. The rest are scattered. Where is Éomer? Tell him there is no hope ahead. He should return to Edoras before the wolves of Isengard come there."

The king rode out from behind his guards. "Come, stand before me, Ceorl!" he said, "I am here. The last host of the Eorlingas has ridden forth. It will not return without battle."

The man's face brightened immediately, and he knelt and offered his notched sword to Théoden. "Command me, lord! And pardon me! I thought..."

"You thought I remained in Meduseld bent like an old tree under winter snow. So it was when you rode to war. But a west wind has shaken the boughs." the king turned to a guard, "Give this man a fresh horse. Let us ride to the help of Erkenbrand!"

While Théoden was speaking Gandalf rode a short way ahead and sat there alone, looking north to Isengard and west towards the setting sun. Now he came back.

"Ride, Théoden!" he said, "Ride to Helm's Deep! Go not to the Fords of Isen, and do not tarry in the plain! I must leave you for a while. Shadowfax must bear me now on a swift errand." He turned to Aragorn and Éomer and cried, "Keep well the Lord of the Mark, till I return. Await me at Helm's Gate! Farewell!"

He spoke a word the Shadowfax, and the magnificent horse sprang away like an arrow from a bow. In a few moments he was gone. The host now turned southward. They rode into the night until they came to a valley that led to a wide gorge or canyon of sorts which opened up between the foothills of the White Mountains. On either side of the gorge sheer cliffs rose up, growing taller and closer together further in. On the northern cliff, near the mouth of the gorge, were walls and a lofty tower. Running from that cliff to the other was a deep ditch or dike, breached by a wide land bridge. Behind that was a high stone wall. A culvert was situated on one side, allowing a stream to wind out and pass into the Westfold Vale. As they approached the valley that led to the mouth of the gorge they heard cries and horn blasts from the scouts. Arrows whistled out of the darkness. A scout rode back and reported that warg-riders were abroad in the valley, as well as a host of orcs and wild men hurrying southward from the Fords of Isen. Scattered companies of men were wandering around leaderless, and no one knew what had happened to Erkenbrand.

"This is going to be fun." Morgan muttered as they started riding.

They went slower as they went on, careful of what might be lurking in the darkness. Here and there they came on roving bands of orcs, but the orcs fled before them. Behind Morgan could make out the sound of harsh singing. As they came close to the dike Morgan looked back. What she saw made her swallow nervously. There were hundreds upon hundreds of fiery points of lights winding up from the lowlands in long flickering lines. Here and there a larger blaze leaped up.

"That's a whole lot of torches down there." she said. Aragorn looked back.

"They are burning as they come, rick, cot, and tree."

As they came to the breach in the dike they were challenged by a sentinel.

"The Lord of the Mark rides to Helm's Gate." Éomer answered, "I, Éomer son of Éomund, speak."

"This is good tidings beyond hope." the sentinel said, "Hasten! The enemy is on your heels."

They crossed the dike and began heading towards the gate. Morgan began chewing her lip. So far this was moving like it had in the book, so hopefully Haldir wouldn't show up and get offed. Of course, battles never seemed to go exactly as they were supposed to. And there hadn't been much of anything from the movies lately. How had the battle gone in the movie? All she could remember was Aragorn tossing Gimli and something about the wall exploding. Speaking of that, she couldn't really remember how the battle went in the book, either. How long had it been since she'd first arrived here? It seemed like forever.

Everyone dismounted as they neared the gate and led their horses through. Those inside welcomed them joyfully. Within a matter of minutes the majority of the force was in place. Morgan found herself up on the wall with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. The torches down below were approaching, but in silence now.

"Hey, Aragorn. How much longer do I have to wear this?" Morgan asked, pointing to the bandage on her ear. The corner of Aragorn's mouth twitched.

"I had almost forgotten about it. Let me check."

He gently unwound the bandage. The wound had healed, leaving a large notch in her ear where no fur grew. After a careful examination he nodded and stepped back.

"It is healed, though it looks as though something took a bite out of your ear."

Morgan felt it. "Great, now all I need is a gold hoop in the other ear and an eye patch and I could be a pirate." she muttered.

"But at least you can hear with both ears now." Legolas pointed out.

"Yeah, but now everything sounds funny."

"You will get used to it." Aragorn said.

Éomer came to make sure everything was fine. "I do not know if it is a good idea for you to be up here." he said when he saw Morgan, "It will be dangerous once the fighting starts."

"Your concern is unneeded." Aragorn said, "Morgan is capable of taking care of herself. She once killed a cave troll unaided."

"Indeed?" Éomer raised an eyebrow. "And how did you accomplish that?"

"You'll see." Morgan replied.

There was a long period of quiet, then the sudden cries of battle came from the dike. After a bit men came galloping from that direction. The rearguard had fallen. A raindrop hit Morgan on the head, and she looked up. The sky was utterly dark. Rain began coming down. A flash of lightning seared across the sky, illuminating for a moment the black mass that was marching towards them. Morgan gulped. Her sensitive ears caught the sound of the marching footsteps over the rain that was now pouring down in torrents. Movies could never really convey the feeling of absolute terror of facing approximately ten thousand large, very ugly Uruk-hai.

The army stopped a short distance from the wall. For a few minutes they faced off in silence. There was the twang of a bowstring, and an orc fell. After a split second the orcs retaliated. Arrows whizzed everywhere, some coming perilously close to Morgan's head. Another flash of lightning revealed ladders being lifted up. They thudded against the wall, and orcs began pouring over the ramparts.

"Hm. Water conducts electricity. Metal really conducts electricity. As long as they're close enough together, it should work."

Morgan hopped onto a ladder that had just hit the wall. The first orc climbing up it was greeted by the sight of a grinning Pachirisu. Blueish-white electricity arced between her and the orc and swiftly traveled down the ladder, jumping one wet armor-clad orc to the next. Morgan's grin widened as they fell off the ladder.

"Wow, I didn't actually think that would work."

Morgan began hopping from ladder to ladder, frying the orcs as they came up. She always tried to stay near Aragorn, though. It would probably be a bad thing to get separated. There was a loud thud. Morgan took a quick look over the edge of the wall and saw a group of orcs and wild men manning a huge battering ram. The ram hit the gate again, and the wood started splintering. She raced back to Aragorn.

"They have a battering ram!"

Aragorn nodded and ran down the stairs. At the foot they encountered Éomer, who looked like he was just coming from the Hornburg.

"They are breaking down the gate!" Aragorn cried, "We must stop them!"

"Follow me. Now is the hour we draw swords together!"

They followed him to a small postern gate near the main gate. With a yell they charged out, drawing swords at the same time. The enemy was taken by surprise, but swiftly recovered and charged in a massive group.

"Hey Éomer," Morgan said, "want to see how I took out that cave troll?" Without waiting for an answer she released a blast of electricity, mowing down the first couple of rows. She looked at Éomer and grinned when she saw his stunned look. "And that's why you don't get me mad."

The enemy regrouped and charged again. As Éomer and Aragorn readied themselves they heard someone cry, "Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!" Gimli rushed out and began hacking as the enemy came up. Once again they repelled them.

"You're late." Morgan called to him. Gimli growled but made no response.

Meanwhile Éomer and Aragorn had succeeded in rolling the battering ram down the causeway, clearing it of orcs and wild men for a few moments. The group hastily made their exit and returned to the wall. The fighting continued. After a few hours the rain stopped and the clouds parted to reveal the moon, now nearing the horizon. Suddenly Morgan realized that the wall hadn't exploded yet. That meant that either it wasn't going to happen, or it was going to happen soon. Almost as soon as she thought that she thought she smelled something funny.

"Get away from this part of the wall!" she screamed.

The others didn't question her but made their way as fast as they could away from that spot. No sooner had they done so than a deafening explosion ripped through the air. The wall where they had been standing went up in a brilliant explosion. Aragorn and Morgan, along with a good number of other people, were thrown from the wall. Morgan, being quite small and light, was thrown a good distance before landing on the top of some stairs and rolling down them. It took her a moment to recover, and several more to stand up. As she looked around she saw orcs by the dozen pouring in through the gap. Aragorn was nowhere to be found. She heard people yelling for them to retreat to the Hornburg. Still keeping an eye out for Aragorn, Éomer, Legolas, or even Gimli, Morgan made her way towards the tower, frying orcs as she went. "Aragorn, if you're dead I'm going to kill you." she muttered.

Many of the men were unable to reach the Hornburg and were forced to make for the caves at the end of the gorge. Gimli and Éomer had ended up there in the book, hadn't they? Morgan was one of the last to reach the tower, slipping in just before the gates closed. She found Legolas close to the gate, whetting a long knife.

"Have you seen Aragorn?" she asked.

"I have not, nor have I seen Gimli or Éomer. Come, we will search for them."

Morgan hopped onto his shoulder, and they began asking around for the missing people. Several said they had seen at least one of them heading towards the caves, which Morgan and Legolas found encouraging. Still, Morgan was worried. Aragorn was supposed to be here to convince the king to ride out. If he wasn't here, did that mean the king wouldn't ride? What would happen if he didn't? What if Gandalf was late again?

"Gandalf, if you're late I will kill you more than I'll kill Aragorn if he's dead." she muttered to herself.

So occupied was Morgan with her thoughts that she didn't notice where they were until Legolas bowed. Théoden stood before them, clad in armor.

"What news?" he asked.

"The orcs have taken the Deep, and have brought blasting-fire from Orthanc."

"What of Éomer and Aragorn?"

"They are not here, my lord. Several men have said they saw them heading for the caves."

The king sighed and began pacing. Morgan hopped off Legolas' shoulder and went to a window. It was still dark outside, but the eastern horizon was beginning to grow lighter. Peering out into the gloom, Morgan saw something that made her freeze. Two orcs were carrying a large, spiked metal sphere towards the gate. She climbed down the outside wall of the tower and stood above the gate.

"Not this time, morons." she muttered as she shot of a bolt of electricity. The sphere exploded, sending shrapnel and orcs flying everywhere. This happened a couple more times, then ceased. The sky was light when she returned to the king's room. He was now alone, still pacing. Suddenly he stopped and looked out the window.

"Is it even worth continuing the battle?" he said softly.

"Are you crazy?" Morgan cried. The king jumped and looked at her. "Um...your highness." she added quickly.

Théoden shook his head. "So much death. How did it come to this?"

"Yes, my lord, there has been a lot of death. People have died defending this place. They still defend it. And if you give up now, they'll all die anyway."

"What can men do against such reckless hate?"

Morgan almost screamed in frustration. "You do what we've been doing for almost the entire night. You fight!"

This seemed to rouse the king a little. "What would you have me do?"

"Ride out." Morgan answered, a fire burning in her eyes, "Ride out and meet them head-on."

They stared at each other for a few moments. The fire that burned in Morgan's eyes was slowly kindled in Théoden's. A grim smile spread across his face.

"So be it. I will ride out. And you will ride with me, if you will."

"Yes!" Morgan pumped a fist in the air before leaping onto Théoden's shoulder. They left the room and quickly gathered as many men as they had horses. As they rode to the gate, Théoden lifted his sword.

"Fell deeds awake! Now for wrath, now for ruin, and a red dawn! Forth Eorlingas!"

The gates swung open and the horsemen rode out. A horn sounded, echoing and magnifying off the cliffs. As they rode Morgan noticed a thick forest on the other side of the dike that was not there yesterday. The orcs seemed as afraid of it as they were of the horsemen and the men who were streaming from the caves. She looked east and saw a rider on a ridge.

"Gandalf!"

Behind the rider appeared a large host of men on foot, the leader of which she guessed to be Erkenbrand. They charged just as the sun peeked over the horizon, glinting off their swords. The orcs wailed and milled about in confusion. Some ran into the woods. Others stood and fought. With Gandalf's reinforcements, though, it was futile. The battle became a rout, and the orcs were wiped out. The men that had been driven into the caves surged out and helped finish off the remaining foes. When the battle was finally ended Gandalf, Théoden, and Legolas were joined by Éomer, Aragorn, and Gimli. Gimli was missing his helm, and had a bandage around his head.

"Forty two, Master Legolas!" he cried.

"You have passed my score by one." Legolas answered, "But I do not grudge you the game, so glad am I to see you on your legs!"

"Yeah, if you were dead who else would I tease mercilessly?" Morgan said from Théoden's shoulder. Gimli glared at her while everyone else laughed.

"I am glad to see that you are safe, Morgan." Aragorn said, "When we were separated I feared the worst."

"Same here." Morgan replied before turning to Gandalf. "Oh, by the way, Gandalf, where did those trees come from?"

Gandalf smiled. "That is no deed of mine. It is a thing beyond the counsel of the wise. Better than my design, and better even than my hope the event has proved."

"Then whose wizardry?" Théoden asked, "Not Saruman's, that is plain. Is there some mightier sage, of whom we have yet to learn?"

"It is not wizardry, but a power far older.

_Ere iron was found or tree was hewn,_

_ When young was mountain under moon;_

_ Ere ring was made, or wrought was woe,_

_ It walked the forests long ago."_

"And what is the answer to your riddle?" Théoden asked.

"If you would learn that, you should come with me to Isengard."

"To Isengard?"

"Yes." Gandalf answered, "I shall return to Isengard, and those who will may come with me. There we may see strange things."

"But there are not men enough in the Mark, not if they were all gathered together and healed of wounds and weariness, to assault the stronghold of Saruman."

"Nevertheless it is to Isengard I go. I shall not stay there long; my way now lies eastward. Look for me in Edoras, ere the waning of the moon!"

"Nay!" cried Théoden, "In the dark hour before dawn I doubted, but we will not part now. I will come with you, if that is your counsel."

"Then on to Isengard!" Morgan cried, then let out a huge yawn. "After a short nap." she added before hopping onto Aragorn's shoulder, diving into his hood, and going to sleep amid the laughter of the others.

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><p>I have finals and a big project due soon, plus Christmas, so I can't promise another quick(ish) update. I did get one big yes for the sequel, though, and since I really want to write it anyway I might try to work harder on this story so I can get to it faster. Review if you so desire!<p> 


	12. To Isengard!

I AM ALIVE! Yeah, I'm surprised too. I now have a job that is taking up some of my time, which is ironic because that's where I wrote most of this chapter (which I am actually allowed to do, especially if I pass it off as homework). Hope you enjoy!

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><p>It was afternoon when they departed from Helm's Deep. Two mass graves were being dug for the fallen men, and the slain orcs were piled by the eves of the strange forest. Morgan wrinkled her nose as they came close to the carrion.<p>

"That's going to stink." she muttered.

At the edge of the forest they stopped, both men and horses unwilling to enter. A mist lay at the feet of the trees, and the shadows were deep under the drooping branches. Gandalf rode to where the road met the trees. The company followed, and they saw what looked like an arch. As they passed under it they were surprised to find that the road went straight and unhindered, with open sky above it. Morgan peered into the many trunks on either side, hoping to catch a glimpse of an Ent. Her efforts were in vain, though, and they emerged from the wood without her seeing so much as a moving twig. At a good distance they stopped and turned to look back. Morgan saw eyes a moment before several large shapes emerged from the trees. They were at least twelve feet tall and looked like walking trees with many-fingered hands and solemn eyes. Morgan grinned. At least she had gotten to see Ents. The Ents lifted their long hands to their mouths and let out several ringing calls. The calls were answered, and more Ents came from the north. Several men reached for their swords.

"You need no weapons." Gandalf said, "These are but herdsmen. They are not enemies; indeed they are not concerned with us at all."

As he spoke the Ents strode into the wood without so much as a glance at the riders.

"Herdsmen!" Théoden said, "Where are their flocks? What are they, Gandalf?"

"Those were Ents, your highness." Morgan piped up, "You know, tree herders, shepherds of the forest. They probably hate orcs just as much as you, if not more."

Gandalf's lips curved into a smile, and Théoden shook his head in wonder.

"Ents!" the king said, "Long have they been no more than legends and stories, and now they have come among us and walk visible under the sun."

"I know how you feel, believe me." Morgan muttered.

They rode on. The sun set and the moon rose, now waxing towards full. After a few hours they came upon the Fords of Isen…or at least where the Fords were supposed to be. The Isen was almost gone. Only a small trickle ran through what must have been an impressive stream. The men began muttering among themselves, wondering what could have happened. Morgan frowned. What had happened again? It had been so long since she'd read the books or seen the movies. Oh yeah, the Ents! How could she have forgotten that epic scene?

"This is become a dreary place." Éomer said, "What sickness has befallen the river? Many fair things Saruman has destroyed. Has he devoured the springs of Isen too?"

"So it would seem." Gandalf said with a glance at Morgan. She had the feeling that he knew, or at least suspected, that she knew what had happened, but she didn't want to say anything in case it upset the balance and caused the world to implode or something like that. Instead, she busied herself with looking around at the moonlight-bathed scenery. In front of them, where she guessed Isengard to be, was a huge pillar of smoke or steam. That was where the waters of Isen had gone.

They crossed what was the Fords of Isen and set up camp on the other side. Late that night the watchmen cried out. A darkness blacker than the night was coming upon them, and the men were understandably a little nervous.

"Stay where you are!" Gandalf said, "Draw no weapons. Wait and it will pass you by."

A mist gathered, and the blackness went around them on both sides. They could hear voices: whispering, groaning, and an endless rustling sigh. The earth shook, like a huge army of giants was passing by. At long last the darkness passed and vanished between the mountain's arms. Morgan was the only one who was not absolutely terrified. It was only the Huorns, a.k.a. the Ents' flocks, and they wouldn't hurt anyone. Soon after they could hear the sound of water as the Isen returned.

No one really slept for the rest of the night. At dawn they continued. The air was thick with fog, and Morgan could only see the riders close to her. As the morning went on the fog lifted a bit, and she could see that the land to either side was covered in weeds and brambles. A tall, black pillar loomed in front of them suddenly. On top was a stone carved into a giant white hand, one finger pointing north towards Isengard. As they got closer, though, it looked like the hand was stained with dried blood, and the nails were red. The image of Saruman with long, red-painted nails popped into Morgan's head, and she did her best to stifle a giggle.

As they went on puddles of water began to appear by the road, like there had been a recent flood. By noon the mists had cleared and they were able to see Isengard, or what was left of it. The gates had been ripped clean off their hinges. The roof of the arch where the gates had stood was gone, and huge chunks had been torn from the wall. Beyond that could be seen a huge stretch of steaming water with all sorts of wreckage floating in it. All in all, it was an impressive, if not a little frightening, scene.

Morgan looked at a pile of rubble next to the road. Two small figures were lying on it, plates, bottles, and cups nearby. One seemed to be asleep, and the other was smoking a pipe contentedly, eyes closed. Morgan very nearly rolled her eyes.

"For people who are supposed to watch the road you two sure do a bad job of it." She called.

The one who was smoking opened his eyes and jumped up. With a wink and a grin to Morgan he took the pipe from his mouth and bowed. "Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!" he said, "We are the doorwardens. Meriadoc, son of Saradoc, is my name, and my companion, who, alas, is overcome with weariness," he discretely kicked the other, "is Peregrin, son of Paladin, of the house of Took. Far in the north is our home. The Lord Saruman is within, but at the moment is closeted with one Wormtongue, or doubtless he would be here to welcome such honorable guests."

Gandalf laughed. "Doubtless he would! And was it Saruman that ordered you to guard his damaged doors and watch for the arrival of guests, when your attention could be spared from plate and bottle?"

"No, good sir, the matter escaped him." Merry answered gravely, "He has been much occupied lately. Our orders came from Treebeard, who has taken over management of Isengard. He commanded me to welcome the Lord of Rohan with fitting words. I have done my best."

"And what about your companions?" Gimli cried, unable to contain himself any longer, "You rascals! A fine hunt you have led us! Two hundred leagues, through plain and forest, battle and death, to rescue you! And here we find you feasting and...and smoking! Where did you come by the weed, you villains? I am so torn between rage and joy it will be a marvel if I do not burst!"

"You speak for me, Gimli," Legolas laughed, "Though I would sooner learn how they came by the wine."

"One thing you have not found in your hunting, and that's brighter wits." Pippin said as he opened an eye, "Here you find us sitting on a field of victory, amid the plunder of armies, and you wonder how we came by a few well-earned comforts!"

"Wow, and after I went through a battle all I got was a nap" Morgan said, causing the others to laugh, "But anyway, let's go meet Treebeard or Saruman or whoever."

Both the king and Gandalf agreed, so Merry was pulled up behind Aragorn and Pippin behind Gimli, and they set off under the ruined arch into the dreary waste that was now Isengard. The water didn't look too deep, but it was a disgusting brownish-gray, and wreckage was everywhere. Posts and pillars leaned drunkenly here and there. Orthanc towered in the middle of it all, dark windows staring. A tree of all things was close by. Then it moved, and Morgan realized it was an Ent. Treebeard, perhaps?

"Hoom, Gandalf!" it said, "I am glad you have come. Wood and water, stock and stone, I can master, but there is a wizard to manage here."

"And manage him we will." Gandalf said, "I must pay Saruman a farewell visit. Dangerous, and probably useless, but it must be done. Those of you who wish may come with me, but beware! And do not jest; this is not the time for it."

They headed towards Orthanc. The tower was black, and it gleamed as if it were wet. On the eastern side there was a huge door, reached by a set of twenty-seven broad steps. Above the door there was a balcony with a plain iron railing, with a small closed door leading out to it. When they came to the bottom of the stairs Gandalf and Théoden dismounted.

"I will go up." Gandalf said, "I have been in Orthanc and know my peril."

"And I too will go up." the king said, "I am old, and fear no peril any more. I wish to speak to the enemy who has done me so much wrong. Éomer shall come with me, and see that my aged feet do not falter."

"As you will," Gandalf said, "Aragorn shall come with me. Let the others await us at the foot of the stairs. They will hear and see enough, if there is anything to hear or see."

"Nay!" Gimli said, "Legolas and I wish for a closer view. We alone represent our kindreds."

"Come then!" Gandalf said. With that they mounted the stairs. Morgan, on Aragorn's shoulder, began chewing her lip. An uneasy feeling was settling on her, but she couldn't figure out exactly why. Gandalf hit the door with his staff.

"Saruman, come forth!" he called. For a long time there was no answer, then the door to the balcony opened a little.

"Who is it? What do you wish?"

Théoden frowned. "I know that voice, and I curse the day when I first listened to it."

"Go and fetch Saruman, since you have become his footman, Gríma Wormtongue!" Gandalf said, "And do not waste our time!"

There was a pause, then a low, melodious voice spoke, its tone like that of a kindly heart aggrieved by undeserved injuries. "Well? Why must you disturb my rest? Will you give me no piece at all by night or day?"

Above them on the balcony stood Saruman, though no one had heard him come. He had a long face and a high forehead. His long beard and hair were white, but bore traces of black around his lips and temples, and he was wrapped in a large cloak that seemed to change colors when he moved. Dark eyes gazed down upon them, widening slightly when he saw Morgan. He began speaking again, but Morgan didn't listen. Her uneasy feeling was extremely strong now, and she had no idea what was causing it. Éomer spoke, then Théoden, then Gandalf. Suddenly there was a _crack_, and the top of Saruman's staff fell at Gandalf's feet. Morgan looked up and suddenly realized what the problem was. Théoden was right in line with both Saruman and the windows above the balcony. She jumped onto the king's shoulder.

"Take two steps to the left." she said.

Théoden gave her a strange look, but did as she said. Not a second later a large round something came hurtling from an upper window, glanced off the railing where Saruman's head had been, and hit the stair where Théoden had been standing. The stair cracked, and the thing rolled down the steps and into a large puddle. Pippin ran after it.

"Wait Pippin, don't…" Morgan started, but Pippin picked up the thing. "Touch that." She finished, then sighed.

Gandalf turned and saw Pippin coming slowly up the steps like he was carrying a great weight, bearing a dark crystal globe. He went to the hobbit and took the globe. "Here, my lad, I'll take that." He said as he wrapped the ball in the folds of his cloak, "I did not ask you to handle it."

"Well, if we're finished here we might as well leave." Morgan said, hopping back onto Aragorn's shoulder.

"That is the second time you have saved my life." Théoden said to her, "I am deeply grateful."

"No problem." Morgan replied, managing to pull off an elaborate bow from Aragorn's shoulder.

Gandalf laughed. "Let us go."

They returned to the ruins of the gate, where Treebeard and a dozen other Ents were standing.

"Hi, Treebeard!" Morgan called, waving. Treebeard blinked and looked at her more closely.

"Hoom hoom! I have never seen such a squirrel as you before!"

Morgan restrained a sigh and hopped into Treebeard's outstretched hand. "I'm not a squirrel, I'm a Pachirisu. You can call me Morgan. But you don't have to put that in your Long List or anything. I don't come from around here."

A twinkle seemed to come to the Ent's eyes. "I have not seen a new thing for many a long, long day. Then come the hobbits, and now you. Hoom, it makes me feel younger somehow."

Morgan grinned and returned to Aragorn's shoulder.

"I am afraid we must take your gatekeepers from you." Gandalf said, "But you will manage well enough without them."

"Maybe I shall," Treebeard said, "but I shall miss them. We have become close friends in so short a time."

Gandalf arranged for the Ents to keep a guard on Saruman, and they left. The sun was setting and had just touched the horizon when they came to the pillar with the hand. The pillar was standing, but the white hand had been torn down and broken. Morgan nodded in satisfaction. Good symbolism there.

The moon was high in the sky when they stopped in a large dale. The ground was covered in last year's bracken, and at the bottom a tall tree stood. A fire was lit under the tree, and everyone but the guards lay down to sleep. Morgan, curled up like usual, frowned to herself. Should she try to stop Pippin from looking into the palantír? But if he didn't, then he and Gandalf wouldn't go to Minas Tirith and the beacons wouldn't get, and Rohan wouldn't come. But what if Pippin gave too much information? That might be worse. Maybe she should stay up and make sure nothing went wrong. Almost as soon as she thought of that, she fell asleep.

Morgan was woken by a strangled cry. She jumped up, along with the rest of the camp, and rushed to the source of the noise. Pippin was clutching the palantír, unable to look away from it. His lips were moving soundlessly. Wait, he shouldn't still be looking at it! Morgan did the first thing that came into her mind: she leaped at Pippin. Her sharp teeth sunk into his wrist, and he dropped the palantír and fell backwards, stiff as a board. Gandalf was the first to react, quickly throwing his cloak over the globe.

"Fool of a Took!" he said as he knelt by Pippin and placed a hand on his brow. Pippin shuddered and closed his eyes, then suddenly sat up and stared in bewilderment at the faces around him.

"It's not for you, Saruman!" he cried, his voice shrill and toneless, "I will send for it at once. Do you understand? Say just that!" He struggled, but Gandalf held him firmly.

"Peregrin Took, come back!"

The hobbit relaxed and fell back. "Gandalf!" he gasped, "Forgive me!"

"Forgive you? Tell me first what you have done."

"I took the ball and looked at it." Pippin stammered, "I saw things that frightened me. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. And then he came and questioned me, and he looked at me, and, and, that is all I remember."

"That won't do." Gandalf said sternly, "What did you see, and what did you say?"

Pippin shut his eyes and shivered, then swallowed and began speaking.

"I saw a dark sky and tall battlements, and tiny stars. It seemed very far away and long ago, yet hard and clear. The stars went in and out—they were cut off by things with wings. Very big things, I think, but in the ball they looked like bats wheeling around the tower. I thought there were nine of them. One began to fly straight towards be, getting bigger and bigger. It had a horrible…no, no, I can't say!" Pippin took a deep breath and continued. "I tried to get away because I thought it would fly out, but when it had covered all the globe it disappeared. Then _he_ came.

"He did not speak so that I could hear words. He just looked, and I understood. 'So you have come back? Why have you neglected to report for so long?' I did not answer. He said, 'Who are you?' I still did not answer, but it hurt me horribly. He pressed me, so I said,' A hobbit.' Then suddenly he seemed to see me, and he laughed at me. It was cruel. It was like being stabbed with knives. I struggled, but he said, 'Wait a moment! We shall meet again soon. Tell Saruman that this dainty is not for him. I will send for it at once. Do you understand? Say just that!' Then he gloated over me and asked me my name. He hurt me terribly. I was about to tell him when something hurt my wrist and I dropped the globe."

"You have Morgan to thank for that." Aragorn said, "Had she not bitten you the Dark Lord would, perhaps, have found out all you knew, and more besides."

Gandalf gazed into Pippin's eyes for a moment. "There is no lie in your eyes, as I feared. A fool, but an honest fool, you remain, Peregrin Took. Wiser ones might have done worse in such a pass. But mark this! You have been saved by good fortune. You cannot count on it a second time." He picked Pippin up and carried him to his bed, while Merry followed. "Lie there and rest, if you can, Pippin. Trust me. If you feel and itch in your palms again, tell me! Such things can be cured. But anyway, my dear hobbit, don't put a lump of rock under me elbow again! Now, I will leave you two together for a while."

Gandalf returned to where the others were standing. Morgan had returned to Aragorn's shoulder.

"How is Pippin?" Aragorn asked.

"I think all will be well now." Gandalf answered, "He was not held long, and hobbits have an amazing power of recovery. The memory of the horror of it will probably fade quickly. Too quickly, perhaps. Will you, Aragorn, take the Orthanc-stone and guard it? It is a dangerous charge."

"Dangerous indeed, but not to all." Aragorn said, "There is one who may claim it by right."

Gandalf looked at Aragorn and then, to the surprise of all but Morgan, lifted the covered stone and bowed as he handed it over. "Receive it, lord, in earnest of other things that shall be given back. But if I may counsel you in the use of your own, do not use it yet! Be wary!"

A shadow fell over them, accompanied by a cold sense of dread. Several riders crouched and covered their heads as if to ward off a blow. A vast winged shape blotted out the moon for a moment before wheeling and flying north.

"Nazgûl!" Gandalf cried, "The Nazgûl have crossed the river! Ride, ride! Wait not for the dawn! Ride!"

He sprang away, calling for Shadowfax. Going to Pippin, Gandalf picked him up. "You shall come with me this time." he said, "Shadowfax shall show you his paces." They went to where Shadowfax was waiting, with Aragorn following. As Gandalf mounted Morgan hopped onto Pippin's shoulder.

"Just remember: if you meet a man named Beregond, go with him. Oh, and Faramir's a good guy, too. His dad's a whack job, though, so be careful. And don't worry, you'll see everyone again. Well, probably."

Aragorn lifted Pippin up to Gandalf, and Morgan returned to Aragorn's shoulder. Merry came up beside them as Shadowfax leapt forward.

"Well, he wanted to ride with Gandalf." Merry said sadly. Morgan hopped onto his shoulder.

"You'll see him again." She said comfortingly. Merry said nothing, and they silently watched as Shadowfax and his riders disappeared into the gray night.

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><p>So, was it worth the wait? Just curious. I'm kind of in the mode for this story now, so hopefully I'll get another chapter up in less than three months...hopefully.<p> 


	13. The Dead Watch the Road

Yay, update! Sorry if it seems a little rushed. That's just kind of how it turned out. Well, enjoy!

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><p>When they could no longer see Shadowfax Merry went and got the small light bundle that was now his luggage. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were already waiting with their horses.<p>

"So four of the company still remain." Aragorn said, "We will ride on together, but not alone as I thought. The king is now determined to set out at once. Since the coming of the winged shadow, he desires to return to the hills under the cover of night."

"And then whither?" Legolas asked.

"I cannot say yet. As for the king, he will go to the muster that he commanded at Edoras, four nights from now. And here, I think, he will hear tidings of war, and the riders of Rohan will go down to Minas Tirith. But for myself, and any that go with me…"

"I for one!" cried Legolas.

"And Gimli with him!" said Gimli.

"Eh, might as well." Morgan shrugged.

"Well," Aragorn said, "for myself, it is dark before me. I must go down also to Minas Tirith, but I do not yet see the road. An hour long prepared approaches."

"Don't leave me behind!" Merry said, "I have not been of much use yet, but I don't want to be laid aside, like baggage to be called for when all is over. I don't think the Riders will want to be bothered with me now."

"I'm sure the king will be happy to take you along." Morgan said, "Besides, we're all going the same way for a little while at least, so you don't have to worry about it just yet."

Within a short time they were riding through the night. Morgan was quietly dozing on Aragorn's shoulder when a rider galloped up to the king from the rear of the group.

"My lord," he said, "there are horsemen behind us. As we crossed the fords I thought that I heard them. Now we are sure. They are overtaking us, riding hard."

The company halted and turned spears ready. Aragorn dismounted and set Merry on the ground before standing by the king's stirrup, sword drawn. The moon came out from behind a passing cloud and glinted on the spear points of a group, about as large as theirs, coming up swiftly.

"Halt!" Éomer shouted, "Who rides in Rohan?"

The pursuers brought their horses to a stop. One dismounted and slowly approached, hand held up in a sign of peace. "Rohan, did you say?" the figure said, "That is a glad word. We seek that land in haste from afar."

"You have found it." Éomer replied, "When you crossed the fords yonder you entered it. But this is the realm of Théoden the King, and none ride here save by his leave. Who are you, and what is your haste?"

"Halbarad Dúnadan, Ranger of the North I am. We seek one Aragorn son of Arathorn, and we heard he was in Rohan."

"And you have found him!" Aragorn cried, giving his reigns to Merry and running forward to embrace the newcomer, "Halbarad! Of all the joys this is the least expected!"

Aragorn let go, and Halbarad caught sight of Morgan.

"What kind of strange…"

"Call me a squirrel and I swear I'll hurt you." Morgan said. Aragorn laughed.

"This is Morgan, a Pachirisu from a distant land." Turning to the others, he said, "All is well. Here are some of my own kin from the far land where I dwelt. But why they have come, and how many, Halbarad shall tell us."

"I have thirty with me." Halbarad said, "That is all that could be gathered in haste. But the brothers Elladan and Elrohir have ridden with us, desiring to go to the war. We rode as swiftly as we might when your summons came."

"But I did not summon you, save only in wish." Aragorn said, "My thoughts have often turned to you, and seldom more than tonight, yet I have sent no word. But come! All such matters must wait. You find us riding in haste and danger. Ride with us now, if the king will give you leave."

When Théoden was told he immediately granted them leave. "If these kinsmen are in any way like yourself, thirty such knights will be a strength that cannot be counted by heads."

They started off again. Aragorn rode with the Dúnedain, exchanging news. At length one of the sons of Elrond, Elrohir perhaps, said, "I bring word to you from my father. 'The days are short. If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead.'"

"Always my days have seemed too short to achieve my desire." Aragorn answered, "But great indeed will be my haste ere I take that road."

"That will soon be seen. But let us speak no more of these things upon the open road."

Aragorn, perhaps in agreement to change the subject, turned to Halbarad. "What is that you bear?"

For the first time Morgan noticed that instead of a spear Halbarad carried a tall pole wrapped with black cloth and leather strips.

"It is a gift I bring you from the Lady of Rivendell." Halbarad answered, "She wrought it in secret, and long was the making. But she also sends word to you. 'The days now are short. Either our hope cometh, or all hopes end. Therefore I send thee what I have made for thee. Fare well, Elfstone!'"

"Now I know what you bear. Bear it for me a while longer."

For the rest of the night Morgan dozed. The east sky was a lightening shade of gray when they reached Helm's Deep. The plan was to rest there for a short while before continuing to the muster of Rohan.

"Go with Merry." Aragorn told Morgan. Morgan blinked in surprise, then became serious.

"Be careful, and don't do anything stupid."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows in surprise before nodding. Morgan hopped onto Merry's shoulder.

"Let's hit the hay, or preferably something a little more comfortable."

Morgan woke to the sound of Legolas saying something about Galadriel sending word to the Dúnedain. After a yawn and a stretch she hopped onto Merry's shoulder, and the four walked around for a while, talking about the battle that had taken place there and laughing at Morgan's overly-dramatized rendition of the part she had played. When the sun hit noon they returned to the Hornburg and entered the huge hall. The king was already there, and he gave Merry a seat by him. She was vaguely aware of Merry becoming an esquire of Rohan and the subsequent talk, but didn't pay much attention. She was too busy looking around for Aragorn, to no avail. Did he look in the Palantír? That's what happened in the books, right? Come to think of it, this little adventure was getting awfully bookish. Well, there wasn't much she could do about it.

At length the meal was finished and they went to where the rest of the riders were assembled. A small, shaggy hill pony had been made ready for Merry. When Aragorn finally came Morgan frowned. His face looked grayish, and his expression was grim and weary as he went to stand by the king's horse.

"Tell, me, Théoden, you ride now to Dunharrow; how long will it be ere you come there?"

"It is now a full hour past noon." the king said, "Before the night of the third day from now we should come to the Hold. The moon will then be one night past full, and the muster will be held the day after. More speed we cannot make if the strength of Rohan is to be gathered."

Aragorn was silent a moment, his face troubled. "Then by your leave, lord, I must take new council for myself and my kindred. We must ride our own road, and no longer in secret. For me the time of stealth has passed. I will ride east by the swiftest way, and I will take the Paths of the Dead."

"Alas! Aragorn, my friend!" Éomer cried, "I had hoped that we should ride to war together; but if you seek the Paths of the Dead then our parting is come, and it is unlikely that we shall ever meet again under the sun."

"That road I will take, nonetheless." Aragorn replied, "But I say to you, Éomer, that in battle we may yet meet again, though all the hosts of Mordor should stand between."

"You will do as you will, my lord Aragorn." Théoden said heavily, "It is your doom, maybe, to tread strange paths that others dare not. This parting grieves me, and my strength is lessened by it, but now I must take the mountain roads and delay no longer. Farewell!"

"Farewell, lord! Ride unto great renown. Farewell, Merry and Morgan. I leave you in good hands."

Morgan came to a sudden decision. "I'm going with you." She said, hopping onto Aragorn's shoulder.

"Morgan…"

"I'm going with you. Period. End of discussion. No arguing." She then went back to Merry's shoulder and said, "Stay with the king. Trust me; you really need to stick with him. Oh, and go with Éowyn. Or Dernhelm. Or whoever grabs you. And you will see Pippin again. Good luck!"

Éomer gave the signal, and the Riders started off. Morgan returned to Aragorn's shoulder as Merry, looking bewildered, rode off. Morgan hoped she had made the right decision. What if Éowyn didn't take Merry? What if Éowyn didn't go at all? What if one or both of them died? In her heart, though, Morgan knew she had made the right choice.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli got on their horses and with the Gray Company rode fast over the plains to the east. In the evening of the next day they came to Dunharrow. Éowyn was glad to see them, until Aragorn told her he was taking the Paths of the Dead in the morning. Then she was silent, her fair face troubled. The next morning they made ready to leave before the sun rose. As Aragorn was about to get in the saddle Éowyn came to bid them farewell. She was dressed as a rider and had a sword at her side. Her face was stern, but Morgan could see the faint glimmer of tears in her eyes.

"Aragorn, wilt thou go?" Éowyn asked.

"I will." He answered.

"Then wilt thou not let me ride with this company?"

"I will not, lady, for that I could not grant without leave of the king and your brother, and they will not return until tomorrow. But now I count every hour, indeed every minute. Farewell!"

"I beg thee!" she cried, falling to her knees.

"Nay, lady." Aragorn said. He raised her, kissed her hand, and leapt into his saddle, not looking back as he rode away. Morgan, however, jumped onto Éowyn's shoulder.

"Just remember: Faramir, not Aragorn. Aragorn's taken. Faramir's not. Oh, and take Merry with you." Morgan then leaped onto the nearest horse and made her way back to Aragorn's shoulder, keenly aware of how Éowyn stared after them with confusion and despair.

The way was shrouded in gray twilight, as the sun had not risen yet over the dark mountains that rose before them and to either side. Black withered trees were scattered on the mountainsides, and a cold vapor of dread seemed to flow through the narrow way. At last they came to a large dark doorway in the mountainside. The horses refused to come near it until their riders dismounted and led them. As they came closer Morgan could see strange signs and figures above the door.

"The way is shut." Legolas read, "It was made by those who are dead, and the Dead keep it. The way is shut."

"Looks wide open to me." Morgan muttered.

"This is an evil door," Halbarad said, "and my death lies beyond it. I will dare to pass it nonetheless, but no horse will enter."

"But we must go in, and therefore the horses must go too." Aragorn said, and with that he took the reins of his horse and entered the door. The Dúnedain and Legolas followed. Gimli stood at the door, knees shaking.

"Here's a thing unheard-of." he muttered, "An Elf will go underground when a Dwarf dare not. I'd never hear the end of it." With that he plunged into the darkness.

Aragorn had brought torches from Dunharrow, and these were lit. All around them was an endless whisper, and a shadowy host seemed to surround them. After what seemed like an eternity they came to a huge open space. Here Aragorn stopped, drew his sword, and held it aloft.

"Let us pass, and then come. I summon you to the Stone of Erech!"

The whispers ceased, replaced by and even more dreadful silence. A chill blast extinguished the torches, and no skill was able to relight them. They pressed on through the darkness. Gimli stumbled behind blindly, pursued by a horror that seemed always just about to seize him. He stumbled on until he was crawling on all fours and soon felt like he could endure no more. Just when he was about to give up and succumb to the terror he thought he saw a small white light coming towards him. When it was before him he saw that it was Morgan. The light seemed to come from a point just below her neck and reflected in her eyes, now strangely serious.

"They are only the shades of men." she said, her voice as serious as her eyes, "They cannot hurt you. Come, Gimli."

To his surprise Gimli was able to stagger to his feet. Morgan turned and started forward. He followed, urged on by the pale glimmer that was she. After what felt like days he heard the sound of water. A pale light grew, and they passed through another gateway. A rill ran out beside them, and the road ahead went down steeply, sandwiched between two sheer cliffs. The narrow slice of sky above was becoming dark, and two small stars glinted.

"I'm glad that's over with." Morgan said, her usual cheerfulness back in her voice.

"Back there…you…" Gimli stuttered. Morgan waved it away and hopped onto his shoulder.

"Don't mention it."

"Just…don't tell the Elf."

Morgan winked. "Don't worry. What happens in the Paths of the Dead stays in the Paths of the Dead."

The company now mounted and rode forward. Behind came a gray mist, cold and fell. The Dead were following.

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><p>Wow, by my calculations there's only three more chapters or so before I'm done with this story. Excited? Disappointed? Want me to hurry and write the next chapter? Review and tell me, please!<p> 


	14. The Long Ride

I just want you all to know that I took precious time out of my spring break to write this chapter just for you amazing people. Well, I wasn't doing much anyway, but still...

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><p>The Company came out of the ravine and into a wide vale. Its sides were steep and grass-grown, and far below lights twinkled.<p>

"Where exactly are we?" Morgan asked.

"We have descended from the uprising of the Morthond, the long chill river that flows at last to the sea that washes the walls of Dol Amroth." Elladan answered, "You will not need to ask hereafter how comes its name: Blackroot men call it."

Morgan wished for a map so she could figure out exactly where they were in relation to Minas Tirith. Names of places were great unless you had no idea where those places were. In fact, she'd just rather have the third book. It had been so long since she'd woken up in Hollin, and she was starting to forget details about what was supposed to happen.

"Friends, forget you weariness!" Aragorn cried without turning around, "Ride now! We must come to the Stone of Erech ere this day passes, and long is the way."

Without looking back the company rode until they found a bridge crossing what was now a decent-sized river and a road that went down through the vale. As they approached the populated fields lights went out in the houses and any that were abroad cried in terror and fled. Morgan didn't blame them. They rode like the wind, and the fact that the Dead were following probably didn't help, either. It was just before midnight when the Gray Company came to a sudden hill. On top of that hill stood a huge, round black stone that was half-buried in the ground. There was no sign of civilization anywhere near it. When they reached the stone one of the sons of Elrond gave Aragorn a silver horn. Aragorn blew upon it, and Morgan thought she heard answering horns.

"Oath breakers, why have ye come?" Aragorn cried.

"To fulfill our oath and have peace." a voice answered, as if from far away.

"The hour is come at last. Now I go to Pelargir upon Anduin, and ye shall come after me. And when all this land is clean of the servants of Sauron I will hold your oath fulfilled, and ye shall have peace and depart forever. For I am Elessar, Isildur's heir of Gondor."

At Aragorn's bidding Halbarad unfurled the standard he had been carrying, but it was too dark to see what was on it. They camped by the stone, but no one slept much because of the dread that came from the Dead surrounding them. When dawn came, cold and pale, Aragorn roused them and proceeded to lead them on a fast and weary journey. Only his will seemed to keep them going. All that day they rode, and by sunset they came upon a deserted town by a river Elladan identified as the Ciril. There they stayed the night, and arose the next morning to find that dawn had not come, nor would it that day. They crossed the Ciril and rode with as much haste as they had yesterday, and around mid morning they came to yet another river, the Ringló, and crossed it as well.

On what Morgan guessed was morning of the third day, since the sun no longer seemed to rise, they came to yet another town at a river crossing. This one, however, still had a good chunk of its population, which were currently fighting men Legolas said were from Umbar and Harad. The battle quickly stopped as they came, but only because both sides fled when they saw the terror that came behind the company. Only one man remained, and he looked scared to death as he introduced himself as Angbor, Lord of Lamedon.

"Gather your folk and come behind, if you dare." Aragorn told him, "At Pelargir the Heir of Isildur will have need of you."

Angbor agreed to do as requested, and the Gray Company crossed the river Gilrain and chased the enemy eastward until night, or what they guessed to be night, came. Then they rested. Morgan was woken up suddenly by Aragorn calling, "Already Minas Tirith is assailed! I fear that it will fall ere we come to its aid."

Once again they rode through the dark world with all the speed they could muster. As the day wore on Morgan caught the faint sound of gulls crying. They were close to the sea, then. Probably close to the Anduin, too. Sure enough, within an hour they saw a decent-sized city on the other side of the Anduin. In front of the city, however, was a massive fleet of ships. There had to be at least fifty huge ships and numerous smaller vessels. Some were trying to sail back to the sea, and quite a few of the smaller boats were burning. Those the company had been pursuing turned to fight when they reached the river, and laughed when they saw the small gray-clad group.

"I think it's time to wipe those smirks off their faces." Morgan said.

Aragorn nodded, a tiny smile playing on his lips, before raising his sword. "Now come! By the Black Stone I call you!"

The Dead swept forward like a gray tide. Pale swords were drawn and horns blew dimly as they came to the ships. The sailors were overcome by fear and leaped overboard. Aragorn and the rest of the company rushed forward, sweeping away any that were left. Before night fell there were only the Dead, the Gray Company, and the slaves who had been chained to the oars on the ships. Aragorn winded his silver horn, and the Dead retreated to the shore. They could hardly be seen except for a red gleam in their eyes.

"Hear now the words of the Heir of Isildur!" Aragorn cried, "Your oath is fulfilled. Go back and trouble not the valleys ever again! Depart and be at peace!"

One of the Dead, wearing a tall crown, stepped forward, broke his spear, and threw it down before bowing low and vanishing. The rest of the Dead followed suit, vanishing like a mist.

"Dang, who knew dead things could be so useful." Morgan muttered.

For the rest of the night they worked on freeing all the slaves on the ships. Soon after the battle Angbor came with came with all the men he could muster. By the next morning they were ready to go. Aragorn stood at the prow of the largest ship, staring north with a troubled look on his face. Morgan, just having finished helping to free the last of the slaves, hopped onto his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"It is forty two leagues from here to the landings at the Harlond, yet to Harlond we must come tomorrow or fail utterly." Aragorn replied grimly.

"We'll make it."

Aragorn looked at her and grinned a little. "Perhaps. I do not suppose you have the power to conjure some wind to aid us."

"Nope, but even if I could that might not be necessary."

He gave her a look, then gave the signal for the ships to move out. All that day the men labored at the oars. Their progress was steady but slow against the current. When night deepened the darkness that was already there they could see a red glow to the north: Minas Tirith was burning. Morgan, who was with Legolas and Gimli on Aragorn's ship, sighed quietly. What if they were late? Gimli's muttering seemed to reflect her sentiments. Suddenly Legolas laughed.

"Up with your beard, Durin's son! For thus is it spoken: Oft hope is born, when all is forlorn."

"What do you mean?" Gimli asked, but Legolas refused to tell.

Morgan was woken up before dawn by a faint breeze coming from the sea. The breeze strengthened, and soon all the masted ships hoisted their sails. Before long the wind became strong enough to create white foam at their prows. The most amazing thing, though, was the light that grew around them as they sped forward. At long last the sun rose, gracing the earth with its long-missed presence and giving almost as much hope as the wind had.

A short while later Aragorn called Morgan over. He was standing with Halbarad, who was holding the standard, once again wrapped around its pole.

"We are coming near to the Harlond." Aragorn said when she came up, "I have asked Halbarad to set the standard on the mast of this ship. I would like you to stay up there as lookout. When I give you a signal, I want you to unfurl the standard."

Morgan gave him a salute. "Can do."

She followed Halbarad up the rigging to the crow's nest, where Halbarad tied the pole to the mast. He then climbed down while Morgan stayed up there, looking to the north and answering any questions that were shouted up at her. She could see the battle going on and could even guess which sides were which. The large bodies of the mûmakil and what was most likely the fell beast Éowyn had taken out were easy to see. As they came to the Harlond she could make out what she thought was Éomer on a hillock almost a mile away, raising his sword in defiance as the standard of Rohan snapped in the wind beside him. Aragorn gave her the sign, and she untied the leather strip that bound the standard. The black cloth unfurled and billowed in the wind, showing a White Tree surrounded by seven stars, with a high crown above it. The entire thing shone in the sunlight, having been made of mithril, gold and gems.

"Arwen must be one dang good seamstress." Morgan muttered.

The ships stopped at the quays of the Harlond and the men leaped from the ships. Morgan climbed swiftly down the rigging and took her place on Aragorn's shoulder. Suddenly she got the chills. This was like the battlefield she had seen in Galadriel's mirror. If she went, there was a good chance she'd die. With a small shake of her head she clung tighter to Aragorn's shoulder. Well, if she was going to die she was going to die fighting by her friends.

They charged forward, sweeping away the hosts of Mordor before them. At length Aragorn and Éomer met in the middle of the battle.

"Thus we meet again, though all the hosts of Mordor lay between us." Aragorn said.

"I believe this counts as an I-told-you-so moment." Morgan added, grinning. Éomer laughed.

"So it does, but hope oft deceives, and I knew not then that you were a man foresighted. Yet help unlooked for is twice blessed, and never was a meeting so joyful, nor indeed more timely. You come none too soon."

"Let's show these guys why they don't mess with us." Morgan said. Éomer and Aragorn lifted their swords in agreement and rode into battle.

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><p>Correction: now I have about three or so chapters left. I didn't realize how long this part would be, so I didn't want to combine it with the next part like I had planned in case it was super-long. Considering that, there might be four or more chapters to go. Review if you have anything to say!<p> 


	15. Battle of the Pelennor Fields

Happy St. Patrick's Day! Yeah, I know, really fast update. I went a little crazy. On the plus side, I'll actually be able to have the last chapter posted when I had originally wanted to...which is Wednesday. So expect more updates really soon!

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><p>While the orcs, for the most part, had been taken care of, there were still the Easterlings and Southrons, and they were fierce in their despair. There was no quarter asked, and none given. The fight wore on. Morgan helped out as much as she could with her electricity as well as watching Aragorn's back. It was getting late in the afternoon when she got a sudden chill of sorts. She looked behind and immediately screamed, "Get down!"<p>

Aragorn immediately dropped to the ground, just barely missing getting nabbed by both the jaws and talons of a monstrous creature that flew over them. Aragorn quickly got to his feet. Morgan, however, had been thrown off and lay on the ground, winded. The thing, a fell beast that looked quite similar to the ones in the movies, wheeled around. This time, though, Aragorn was ready. With one mighty stroke he hewed off the head. The fell beast went limp, very nearly crashing into Morgan. From that terrible wreckage a dark figure rose and advanced. Morgan, having finally regained her breath, grimaced as she stood. Of course it would be a stupid Nazgûl. At least it wasn't the Witch King...or so she hoped. He didn't have a crown or big spiky helmet, but he was pretty intimidating none the less.

"Move, creature."

Did the whole "no man can kill me" thing apply to all Nazgûl, or just the Witch King? Either way, Morgan had a very strong feeling if she let this guy get to Aragorn Gondor would be short a king. Everyone else was occupied with trying to stay alive, so it was up to her. Baring her teeth, she said, "Bring it."

The Nazgûl was much faster than she had anticipated. In less than a second it had crossed over to her and grabbed her by her throat.

"Do not come between the Nazgûl and his prey." it hissed, grip tightening around her neck, "You will pay for your insolence."

Morgan didn't bother struggling. Instead, she gathered up every last bit of energy she could muster and focused it into a blast that could have killed three cave trolls and severely injured another. The Nazgûl let out an unholy shriek the pierced everyone near to the core. Its armor crumpled and its robe fell to the ground, now empty. Morgan likewise fell to the ground and lay unmoving. Aragorn ran over.

"Morgan? Morgan, are you all right?" he cried as he gently picked her up and cradled her in his arms. After a few moments she stirred and opened her eyes.

"Guess I didn't die after all." she said in a hoarse voice, smiling weakly.

"For that I am indeed grateful." Aragorn said, standing and tucking her into his jacket. Morgan closed her eyes for a few seconds. She felt tired and weak, more so than she should have even after that blast. Was this the Black Breath or whatever that affected Faramir and Éowyn and Merry? Whatever it was, it felt like it was draining the life right out of her. And she had been so looking forward to trying to kill a mûmakil, too.

By the time the sun set, casting everything in the shadow of Mindolluin and turning the sky blood-red, the battle was over. Aragorn rode to the Gate with Éomer and prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. Gandalf was waiting there, and Éomer and Imrahil left while Aragorn stayed to talk to him. Morgan didn't listen to their conversation. She felt dizzy, and it hurt just to breathe. After a few moments she blacked out.

Morgan came to as Aragorn was setting her on a bed. He smiled slightly as she opened her eyes, but it was a sad, pitying sort of smile.

"I was afraid you were succumbing to the Black Breath," he said, "but I am glad it is not so. Wait here a little while."

With that he left. Morgan wasn't so sure she agreed with him. She felt too weak to even curl up. After a few moments she noticed Merry lay in the same bed, face gray and his breathing barely noticeable. At least he wasn't dead. About fifteen minutes later Aragorn came in. He went to Merry's side and placed a gentle hand on the hobbit's forehead before calling him by name. Merry's face was still gray, but his breathing became deeper and more even. Gandalf and Pippin came in, bearing a steaming bowl of water and a couple of withered leaves. Aragorn took the leaves and cast them into the water. At once a sweet and wholesome aroma filled the room, like it had in the dell after Moria all that time ago. He bathed Merry's forehead and right arm with the water before doing the same with Morgan's throat. Almost instantly it became easier for her to breathe, and her strength returned a little. At about the same instant Merry woke up.

"I am hungry. What is the time?"

"Pat supper-time, now," Pippin answered, "though I daresay I could bring you something if they will let me."

"They will indeed." Gandalf said, "And anything else that this Rider of Rohan may desire, if it can be found in the city, where his name is in honor."

"Oh, hullo, Morgan!" Merry exclaimed when he noticed her at the foot of his bed, "You look terrible. How are you feeling?"

"Like I got throttled by a Nazgûl. How am I supposed to be feeling?" Morgan rasped. Aragorn laughed.

"As well you should be, since that is what happened." He took his leave, and Gandalf left with him.

"Throttled by a Nazgûl?" Pippin asked.

"Later." Morgan replied as she curled up, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.

A commotion woke Morgan up the next morning. Legolas and Gimli were standing with Pippin by the bed, and Merry was siting up. They were talking cheerfully.

"It is good to see you in one piece, Morgan." Legolas said as she gingerly stretched, ""When Aragorn said you were injured we feared the worse."

"Aye." Gimli agreed, "None can withstand a Nazgûl, save yourself and the lady of Rohan."

"I'm recovering." Morgan said, her voice still a little hoarse. Then, to the surprise of the hobbits, she hopped onto Gimli's shoulder. "What's for breakfast?"

Legolas laughed and handed her a roll that had, from the looks of it, probably been intended as part of Merry's breakfast. Morgan ate it as fast as she could with her bruised throat. How long had it been since she had last eaten? When she was done they all went outside into the garden that seemed to be part of the Houses of Healing. For a while they walked around and talked of small things. When Merry got tired they found some benches to sit on.

"So when did this happen?" Pippin asked, gesturing towards Morgan and Gimli.

"I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." Morgan replied, "Actually, on second thought, I'd have to kill you first, and then I'd tell you."

Legolas laughed a little. "I do not know exactly what happened myself, but I can tell you it happened on the Paths of the Dead."

"The Paths of the Dead?" Pippin asked, "I heard Aragorn say that, and I wondered what he could mean. Won't you tell us some more?"

After some more pestering Legolas finally told them about the Paths of the Dead, as well as the subsequent ride. Merry and Pippin each told of their adventures.

"And what about you, Morgan?" Merry asked, "Did you really kill a Black Rider?"

"You could say that." Morgan told them briefly about her encounter with the Nazgûl. By the time she was done her throat was starting to hurt, so she fell silent.

They all sat silently for a minute, each with their own thoughts. The quiet was disturbed when Gandalf came up. He looked weary but satisfied, in a grim sort of way.

"I am glad to see the last of my charges up and about." he said, "Morgan, I would ask that you come with me."

Morgan nodded and hopped onto his shoulder. "So what's going on?" she asked as they began heading towards the lower levels.

"We are holding a council to decide what to do next."

"OK. What does that have to do with me?"

"We believe your input would be a valuable asset."

"Sheesh, kill one lousy Ringwraith and suddenly they think you know stuff." she muttered. Gandalf glanced at her and smiled.

After a long walk they entered a large tent pitched outside the shattered gates of the city. Aragorn, Éomer, Prince Imrahil, and the sons of Elrond were gathered there. The prince raised his eyebrow when he saw Morgan, but had the wisdom to keep his mouth shut.

"I am glad to see you up and about." Aragorn said, "Gandalf said perhaps you would be able to aid us in deciding our next course."

"He did, did he?" Morgan gave Gandalf a long, searching look, but he kept his face expressionless.

Aragorn quickly summed up everything that had already been discussed before asking Morgan for her opinion. Morgan was quiet for a moment, thinking.

"Well, it sounds like either you go out and get killed or wait here and get killed. The only question is if Frodo..." she fell silent. Frodo should be past Cirith Ungol by now, right? Well, assuming that he was still alive, and that Sam had gotten him out. She had the feeling that they were both alive, but as for how they were doing, she had no clue. Hopefully everything had gone as it should have. She had made the right choice in going with Aragorn, right? Or was she needed in more places than she could be?

"What would you have us do?" Gandalf asked.

Morgan glared at him before replying. "I think you should go out and fight. Draw his Eye away from his own lands and make it blind to everything else."

"Will he take the bait?" Aragorn asked.

"Probably. I mean, if it meant killing you and squashing most of whatever strength we have left, why wouldn't he?"

"It would be riding to our deaths." Éomer pointed out. Morgan shrugged.

"Well, you're probably going to die anyway. Might as well go out with a fight, right?"

Éomer conceded to this point, and they began figuring out how many men they could muster. In all they figured they could set out in two days with seven thousand men.

"One question." Prince Imrahil said, "Are we truly going to do as this..." he paused, no doubt trying to come up with a word other than squirrel, "creature suggests?"

"You forget," Aragorn replied, "this "creature," as you put it, defeated one of the nine."

"I was right." Morgan muttered, "You kill a Nazgûl and they do think you know everything."

"Besides." Aragorn continued, "We have heeded her advice before, and it has not led us astray."

Morgan was about to say there was a first time for everything, but Gandalf's look advised her to keep her mouth shut. Prince Imrahil finally consented, and messengers were brought in to relay the orders. Éomer offered to take Morgan back to the Houses of Healing, since he was planning on visiting his sister anyway.

"Mithrandir seems to trust in you heavily." he said as they came to the fourth level.

"I have no idea why." Morgan replied.

"Aragorn appears to as well." he pressed.

"Maybe it's because I'm so cute and fluffy."

Éomer laughed. "Perhaps they can see past outward appearances."

The others were still in the garden when they arrived. Éomer bid her farewell and went into the House. Morgan quickly explained what was going on to the others, but refused to give many details, saying that her throat was beginning to hurt.

The next morning Morgan woke up before dawn. Silently, she crept outside and stood on the wall, looking east towards Mordor. How were Frodo and Sam doing? She had thought about them quite a bit during the ride after the Paths of the Dead. A feeling was growing inside of her, telling her that they would need her. She had no clue, however, of how that could ever happen. She was here and they were in the fastness of Mordor. The only way she could come to them was to fly.

"You are out early." Gandalf said as he came from behind to lean on the wall.

"I was just thinking."

"You doubt your plan."

Morgan shifted uncomfortably. "Well, not so much that as...I have a feeling. I think Frodo and Sam are going to need me before long, but I don't know how I can help them, unless I grow wings and fly over there."

"Perhaps a way will open."

They stood silently as the sun rose. Below the city was beginning to stir, but there on the sixth level it was still quiet. Something fluttered past Morgan's face. Was that a moth? It flew by again. Yes, it was a moth. What was a moth doing here? Something tugged at Morgan's memory. A moth and something...something big...like a big shadow...

"Holy crud!" Morgan suddenly shot behind Gandalf. A second later a great shadow fell over them. With a great gust a giant eagle landed on the wall. "Don't let it eat me!" Morgan squeaked. She had seen an eagle snatch up a chipmunk before, and it didn't look pretty. Gandalf laughed.

"Do not worry, this is Gwaihir the Wind Lord, swiftest of all eagles." he turned to the eagle, "Greetings, Gwaihir. What errand bears you hither?"

"I come with tidings, and also a message from the Lady Galadriel to one called Morgan."

Morgan hopped onto Gandalf's shoulder. "Galadriel sent me a message? Really?"

Gwaihir, for some reason, seemed to find her amusing. "Indeed, if you are Morgan. The Lady bids me tell you that time is now precious, and to remember what you saw in her mirror."

"Gotcha."

As Gwaihir relayed his tidings to Gandalf Morgan tried to remember everything she had seen in the mirror. Everything had come true except for the one part that had looked like her going into Mordor. Well that and the Eye, but she didn't think that really counted. So she was supposed to go to Mordor, then. The only question was how.

"The Lady also bid that I offer my assistance, if it will be of any help." Gwaihir was saying.

"I don't suppose you could get me into Mordor." Morgan piped up.

"Into Mordor? Nay; the winged Nazgûl would make an attempt much too dangerous, and the Dark Lord would be made aware of it. But perhaps..."

"Perhaps what?" Morgan asked after a moment.

"There is a way into Mordor that is unguarded. It can only be reached from the air, so the enemy has no need to keep a watch there. I would be able to set you on the path, but you would have to cross into Mordor yourself."

"That's all I need. Would you be willing to do that?"

Gwaihir looked at Gandalf, who nodded. "The Lady seems to favor you highly, so I will do as you ask. It should be done soon, however, before the Nazgûl regain their strength."

"No problem. I'll be as quick as I can."

Gandalf and Morgan quickly told everyone what was going on. It was agreed that she should get the last of the lembas, which would do her for a good while, as well as a small water-skin. Within an hour she was ready to go. The two hobbits were quite keen on pointing out how ridiculous she looked with all that on her back, and Morgan joked right along with them. At last all the goodbyes were said. She was about to hop onto Gwaihir's back when she suddenly turned around.

"Oh yeah, Gimli. Don't forget to look under the troll."

With that she jumped onto Gwaihir's back and he took off with a few mighty beats of his wings. Morgan held on tightly, trying not to get swept off by the wind.

"Just remember, Morgan, you have a type advantage." she muttered. How exactly that was supposed to help her she didn't know, but it did. After a few minutes she got enough courage to look around. To the south the Anduin flowed, bending west to join the sea. North lay what looked like marshland. In front loomed the Mountains of Shadow and the darkness that lay behind them.

In what seemed like a short time, considering the distance they had crossed, Gwaihir slowed, gliding downward in a spiral. He halted just above a ravine of sorts that ran down into Mordor. It ended abruptly at a cliff, as if some giant knife had sliced that part of the mountains away.

"I can take you no further. I wish you luck."

"Thanks." Morgan said as she hopped off, "May you fly to where the sun sails and the moon walks."

Gwaihir nodded and flew off. Morgan looked down the ravine. This was it. Somewhere in that gloom were Frodo and Sam, and she would have to find them. Far off in the distance Mount Doom flared, its red glow shining like a beacon for a few moments. Mount Doom it was, then. That was where they would be heading anyways. But the distance was great, and the armies that lay between were visible even from where she stood.

"Certainty of death. Small chance of success. What are we waitin' for?" Morgan muttered. With a deep breath and one last look back she headed down the steep path into Mordor.

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><p>Kind of a long chapter, but I guess that's better than a ridiculously short chapter. Feel free to review!<p> 


	16. Mordor

Yep, another quick update. Not a very long chapter, but here it is!

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><p>The ravine that went down to the Plains of Gorgoroth was steep and narrow, with plenty of fissures and fallen rocks that had to be traversed. Finally, after many hours of scrambling over the hard terrain, Morgan reached the Plains. Night was falling, so she found a small area almost hidden underneath a boulder and curled up to sleep, hoping what Gwaihir had said was true and that the path really was unwatched.<p>

The sky was getting lighter when Morgan woke, but not by much. A dark cloud hung over Mordor, rising from Orodruin like a thick pillar supporting a vast roof. As she looked out over the plains she was daunted by the distance. The mountain seemed hundreds of miles away. How much time did she have to reach it? A week, maybe? What route had Frodo and Sam taken? Now was when she really needed the third book. And maybe her own cloak from Lothlórien. She was going to stick out like a sore thumb if she didn't do something to camouflage herself.

"Well, I guess a little dirt won't hurt me." Morgan muttered as she started rubbing dirt into her fur. Hopefully this would keep her from being spotted immediately. Heck, maybe she would be able to curl up and be mistaken for a rock. Camouflage taken care of, she started across the plains.

It was late in the afternoon when Morgan came across a road. From what she could see it ran almost straight to Mount Doom. It was a risk, she knew, but she needed speed. Besides, in the event that someone came along the road she would have a much easier time hiding than, say, two tired hobbits. Ears strained to detect any sound, she hopped onto the road and began going as fast as she dared.

Morgan lost count of the days as she went on. It felt like some hateful, never-ending nightmare. The very air felt poisonous, and dried her mouth quicker than a hot, dry, sandy wind straight from a desert. Occasionally she would run across cisterns placed by the road, but most of the time there would be little or no water in them. After rashly drinking the last of her water when she saw one in the distance only to find there was no water there, Morgan was careful to check to see if there was actually water in the cistern before getting her hopes up.

By day she would scurry along the road, listening hard and getting off the road every time she thought she heard something. By night she would hide somewhere by the side of the road, often in some pit or under a mess of brambles. Only the Elvish waybread seemed to keep her going. Well, that and the growing feeling that Frodo and Sam would need her desperately and if she didn't hurry something terrible would happen.

At long last she was at the foot of Orodruin. The black cone towered over her, its base covered in broken rock and slag. The road Morgan had been following curved around the mountain to continue towards Barad-dûr, which was definitely where she didn't want to go. Nothing for it, then. Shouldering her now all-too-light burden she started up the slope, looking for the path that led to the door in the side of the mountain.

…

Sam struggled up the path, Frodo on his back. His master felt lighter than Sam thought he would have, but it was still a burden, one the tired hobbit didn't know if he could carry for much longer. Suddenly a weight hit him, causing him to fall.

"Wicked masster!" a voice hissed, "Wicked master cheats us; cheats Sméagol, _gollum_. He mustn't go that way. He musstn't hurt Precious. Give it to us! Give it to us!"

Sam rose and drew his sword, but there was nothing he could do. Frodo and Gollum were locked together, struggling for the Ring. With a shout of triumph Gollum's fingers closed around it. A sudden blast of light smote him, and he fell back with a cry.

"Back off, creeper." Morgan panted as she came up next to Frodo.

"M-Morgan?" Frodo gasped as he staggered to his feet.

"In the flesh. Go on. We'll take care of Gollum."

Frodo stared at her for a moment, still stunned at her sudden appearance, then nodded and staggered off. Gollum had recovered enough to see this and leaped after. Sam reacted quickly, slashing him across the ribs. Morgan followed up with an electric blast. Gollum fell and lay still. Morgan hopped onto Sam's shoulder and he ran up the path, towards the tall arched doorway that led into the heart of the mountain.

The inside of Mount Doom was a vast, open chamber that opened to the sky and fell into a lake of magma. Everything was illuminated by a dull red glow cast from the fires below, and a mist of vapors swirled around in the hot air. A stone pier of sorts thrust out from where the door was almost to the middle. Frodo was standing at the edge, holding the chain with the Ring on it.

"What are you waiting for?" Sam yelled when Frodo didn't move, "Cast it into the fire!"

Frodo looked at him, then back at the Ring.

"Just chuck it into the fire already!" Morgan all but screamed.

Still Frodo stood, holding the Ring above the drop but not letting go. Finally he turned around.

"The Ring is mine." he said, and pulled the Ring off the chain and slipped it onto his finger.

"Frodo you idiot!" Morgan screamed as he disappeared.

Several things happened at that moment. Something struck Sam in the back of the head, causing him to fall. Morgan was thrown off his shoulder and landed a little ways away. Gollum leaped over them and began fighting with an unseen foe. Morgan managed to stagger upright just as Gollum pulled something to his mouth and bit it. Frodo became visible again and collapsed, cradling his hand. Gollum pulled Frodo's now-missing finger from the Ring and held it up, jumping for joy. Morgan was wondering if she should try pushing him over the edge when Frodo staggered to his feet and tackled Gollum, trying to wrest the Ring from his grasp. They teetered at the edge for a moment, then they both tumbled over and vanished from sight.

"Frodo!" Sam yelled as he stumbled to the edge.

Morgan followed. Frodo was clinging to the rock a short ways down. Sam threw himself flat on the ground and reached over.

"Grab my hand!"

Frodo tried, but he couldn't reach it. Morgan scrambled down Sam's arm.

"Hold onto me!" she called as she herself reached for Frodo. Frodo managed to touch her, but his hand slipped and he swung dangerously.

"Frodo, if you die I swear I'm going to kill you!" she yelled.

With a huge effort Frodo tried one last time. Morgan caught hold of his hand.

"This is going to hurt." she muttered as Sam began pulling them up. Finally they were on the ledge. "Time we weren't here." Morgan said, trying to ignore the pain that resulted from being the equivalent of a rope.

Sam helped Frodo up, and they began heading for the exit. Behind them the magma began to rise, heaving itself beyond its bounds. As they made it out the door it roared after them, spewing forth in a mighty river. They jumped, landing on a spur of rock that jutted from the mountainside. Lava began running down the mountain as they crawled to the very edge of the rock.

"It's gone." Frodo said.

"Yes, Mister Frodo, it's all over now."

"I am glad you are here with me, Samwise Gamgee, here at the end of all things."

Morgan watched them sadly. Perhaps it would be the end here. This part of the movie almost made her cry every time. After a while she gave them the last of her food and water. The hobbits laid down, but Morgan stood still, watching and waiting.

"Gandalf, if you're late this time I will have to hurt you." she murmured quietly to herself.

After what felt like a long time Morgan thought she saw something coming towards them in the air. A few moments later she was sure of it. A tired smile came to her parched lips. The Eagles were coming.

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><p>Only one more chapter to go. I can't believe this is almost over. FYI, this will have been the first story I hadn't originally finished before posting. Last chapter will come soon! Review, por favor.<p> 


	17. The End of All Things

This is it: the last chapter. Enjoy! (Or at least tolerate!)

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><p>Frodo woke to find himself laying in a soft bed with sunlight falling gently all around him. What seemed to be the cloth roof of a pavilion billowed slightly in a breeze. Slowly he began to sit up, but stopped when he saw who was at the foot of his bed.<p>

"I told you you'd see Gandalf again." Morgan said smugly from Gandalf's shoulder.

Frodo began laughing, and Gandalf joined in. One by one the other members of the fellowship came in, laughing and hugging Frodo, or standing by his bed. Morgan smiled. It was good to see everyone together again, safe and whole.

Later that day, while the hobbits were catching up, Morgan found Gandalf talking with Aragorn. When they were finished she hopped onto Gandalf's shoulder.

"So, um, Gandalf. Do you know if Elrond and Arwen are coming? I just thought I'd ask."

"Not to my knowledge."

"Oh. Well, uh, I just thought they'd come and, you know, support Aragorn or something like that."

"The ways are still dangerous."

Morgan began fidgeting. "Yeah, but I just kind of feel like they should come to Minas Tirith."

"It would take a long time if a messenger were to be sent."

"Couldn't you send a message through magical telepathy or something like that?"

Gandalf gave her a strange look and Morgan sighed.

"Never mind."

There was a rumble, and to the south men began shouting.

"What in the name of holy fudgesicles is going on?" she muttered. Nothing had happened at this point in either the books or the movies.

"See what it is. I will come in a moment."

Morgan nodded and dashed off. The rumbling was getting louder, and now there was a trumpeting sound as well. Naturally she found Aragorn near the source.

"What's going on?" she asked as she jumped onto his shoulder.

"Mûmakil." Aragorn replied, "We thought we destroyed all of them at Minas Tirith, but apparently that was not so."

Just then a huge gray shape burst from the trees. Morgan gulped. They were enormous up close. The shattered remains of what might have been a wooden tower still clung to its back. The beast trumpeted and slashed at everything in front of it with its tusks. Men were trying to shoot it down while avoiding getting hit or stepped on, but having little luck. Aragorn looked at Morgan questioningly.

"Right on it." she said. Giving the front of the mûmakil a wide berth, she found a tall tree that was, amazingly enough, still standing and right next to the elephant-like monster. In record time Morgan climbed to the top of the tree. After a deep breath she jumped and managed to land on the mûmakil's back.

"Don't panic." she muttered to herself as she crawled through the wreckage, "You took out a cave troll. You took out a Nazgûl. An oliphaunt shouldn't be too hard, right?"

As the mûmakil stormed onward Morgan was forced to reconsider her last statement. It was difficult just to stay on the thing. Finally she reached the head. The two sail-like ears flapped on either side as she stopped and hung on.

"You know, this seems to happen way too often." she said right before firing off her electricity. The mûmakil plowed into the ground, nearly running over the archers that had been trying to kill it. Morgan flew over the head, down the trunk, and into a tree. For a few seconds she just stared up at the leaves above her.

"I hate trees." she finally said as she sat up. Aragorn, Gandalf, and a bunch of other people came running.

"Are you hurt?" Aragorn asked.

"Not too much...I hope." Morgan answered as she got up and checked to make sure all her body parts were, in fact, intact. "Any more little surprises like that?"

"I hope not." Aragorn said as he picked her up, "You have become quite adept at slaying all manner of creatures."

"Don't get used to it." Morgan muttered, "At least now I know where Sam's oliphaunt got off to. Always wondered about that."

"Perhaps you should rest." Aragorn said, taking her to the pavilion.

"Sure. If there's any other big, scary what-have-yous that come along and need to be killed, tell them to come back later. Much later. Like maybe in a year or two." With that Morgan went into the pavilion and found a place to recuperate after that very unexpected event.

They stayed there, at the Field of Cormallen close to Cair Andros, for a month while the aftermath of the battle and the mûmakil were being taken care of. During that time all the different tales were exchanged and facts cleared up, though Sam still couldn't quite believe that Merry and Pippin had both gained several inches from drinking Ent-draughts, and the oliphaunt he has seen had appeared only to be killed by something as small as Morgan. Finally everything was taken care of for the time being, and they began making their way back to Minas Tirith. They went at an easy pace, finally reaching the great city on what Gandalf determined to be Mid-year's Day. Just outside the barrier that was the temporary replacement for the gates Aragorn stopped. Morgan, once again on his shoulder, looked at him curiously.

"What is it?"

Aragorn didn't answer, but she could see a hint of doubt on his face. With a solemnity rarely seen, Morgan looked straight in his eyes.

"Aragorn, the time for the Ranger is past. Become who you were born to be."

Aragorn met her eyes for a few moments, then laughed and continued into the city. Within an amazingly short time everything was ready for Aragorn's crowning. A massive crowd gathered on the seventh level. Morgan was now on Frodo's shoulder, near the front with the rest of the hobbits. A hush fell on the crowd as Aragorn and Gandalf mounted the steps to the citadel, with Faramir following behind bearing a crown on a cushion. Aragorn knelt, and Gandalf took the crown and placed it on his head.

"Now come the days of the king." the wizard said, "May they be blessed."

Aragorn stood and turned around. The crowd cheered, but again fell silent as he raised his hands.

"This day does not belong to one man, but to all. Let us together rebuild this world, that we may share in the days of peace." then, walking down the steps, he said, "Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta!"

He continued forward, nodding to many. Then he stopped. In front of him was an Elf-maiden, dark-haired and beautiful to look upon. She bowed her head, but he gently lifted her chin and gazed into her face. Then he kissed her.

"Who doesn't love a good kissing scene?" Morgan murmured, grinning with relief that Elrond and Arwen had come after all.

Arm in arm Aragorn and Arwen continued forward until they were in front of the hobbits. The four bowed, as did Morgan once she ensured she wasn't going to fall off.

"My friends," Aragorn said, "you bow to no one."

He knelt, and everyone else did as well. The hobbits straightened and looked around them.

"Wow, I can finally see over everyone." Morgan muttered. Pippin stifled a giggle.

After that the party began. There was music and dancing as everyone celebrated the long-awaited return of the king. Morgan was introduced to Arwen and Elrond, as well as quite a few others. She also nearly got stepped on several times, but managed to avoid it. After a while, though, she went to the parapet at the edge of the level. Her heart was heavy, and she knew why. Her part was over. Soon, she would have to leave.

Frodo and Sam found her siting quietly, lost in her thoughts.

"Why are you out here all by yourself?" Sam asked, "I thought you would be in the middle of it all."

Morgan smiled sadly. "I'm sorry guys, but I have to leave soon."

"Leave? Where?" Frodo asked.

"Home." As she said that small sparks of light began swirling around her. "I'm glad I got to go with you guys. Tell everyone goodbye for me. Oh, and Sam? Don't name any of your kids after me. Bye."

The light encompassed her. For a moment Frodo and Sam thought they saw a smiling brown-haired girl waving goodbye, then the light vanished, taking Morgan with it.

Morgan found herself staring at the screen of her Nintendo DS, the information for her newly-caught Pachirisu in front of her. Smiling, she saved and turned off her DS, as well as the CD player that was still going. That had to have been the weirdest daydream ever. As she stood and stretched, she felt something against her collarbone. It was a small clear gem shaped like a mallorn-leaf, set in silver and strung on a silver chain. Not a dream, then. She felt one ear. Sure enough, there was a notch. That was going to be hard to explain.

"Morgan, dinner!"

"Coming, mom!"

Morgan grinned as she tucked her necklace under her shirt. There was no way she'd ever forget that adventure.

* * *

><p>The End. Sorry for anyone who wanted a Gray Havens scene. I just couldn't make it work. Anyway, thanks for reading! It's good to know people (at least kind of) like what I write. I might take a short break (wouldn't you if you'd just posted four chapters in a week?) before starting the sequel. It will probably be called How to Train Your Pachirisu or something cheesy like that. If you have a better idea please, please tell me. I'm horrible at coming up with titles. Thanks again for reading!<p> 


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